Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Where we run

So this at last is where we run to, where we seek the peices that we've missed. There's no where else that we know of, this is all we have left. No where now but still running, fleeing the past and fearing the future. The strip malls, department stores, and downtown centers please us with distractions and feed us cheap chintzy hope for a capitalistic holiday and an easy off oven cleaner. The candies and gems that the salesmen show us are rotten or cracked but taste or shine the same if we look the other way. With car washes, psychiatrists, and plastic surgeons praying to the gods of commerce and showing us the way to a $.50 scrub and wax, a cookie cutter personality, and a face only Michael Jackson could love, who needs love, who needs friends, who needs...sincerity. Climb on the train, fall off the wagon, bend your knees to progress, let's all join hands and have an ankle grabbin' good time welcoming the new age, or a time when even plastic itself is fake, and we've lost all the molds for truth and the truth is green and can be used for antibiotics to grow better, stronger lies. Let's open ourselves to mediocrity and banish those that would have us excel, nothing but nothing comes of nothing, and we need nothing to see what something is. The 1920's were brilliant with their spangles and laced dresses and suits and drinks and noses, only in a time of prosperity can cocaine be legal and more people die at parties than in violence. We love this our true blue, new, America, the shining, gleaming, buttressed champion of child labor and soft drinks. We can't but kiss the flag while licking it with flames, and watch our cities burn with crime and politics. And all that our parents told us, is nothing more than the annoying background whine of an AM station over the bad country music that our lives seem to sound like when told to others.


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