Forced smiles and aimless conversation
permeate the atmosphere - most are
performing self-hypnosis, tricking their
stalwart brains to accept the situation
without "fight or flight" kicking in while
making them seem "docile"
And here I am, in the eye of this
Category 5 disaster, drowning amidst
crab cakes and crabbier spouses,
who check their watches obsessively
for signs that they may indeed, have
the power to move space-time forward
So booze becomes my cure for
flattly-falling one-liners sounding
half-way funny, miniscule small talk
amplifying into grand lectures on the
human condition - but all the while, I stare
at the door, longing for, sweet departure...
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Great post, I am almost 100% in agreement with you
Post a Comment