We weren't
meant to interact so intimately, through the tackiness of deception and riddles
or everything feeling like we were walking uphill, were we? Alternatively,
there resided in me a deep disturbance that it was possible that the
interaction was supposed to secondarily reveal that Friday was only a calendar
day bereft of the importance placed upon it by fools who assume that Friday
isn't a day of reckoning, but of celebration. It happened anyway and it was
Friday, even given the rhetorical question it boiled up and even though others
were dealing with matters of the heart. It tapped into a part of me that undid
years of missteps, and reset my course, poisoned like I had been moonstruck to
fall prey to my wound. Were the cards loaded from the start?
The day was now phrased too
coarsely for a pacifist, even a pacifist who ironically embraces the tones of
Dylan and Neil Young. The day shape-shifted into more of a biting my tongue calm
at the moment when the world felt like someone was telling Grace Jones to act
more like a lady and to mind her manners and not play the part of Zula with
such potency. It was at that moment of unsolicited Dear Abby miss mannerism
falling out of the clouds like rum might snake charm a crowd long enough to
mask the harms like an inoculation orchestrated by perpetrators of mass iniquitousness,
at that very moment, I felt unsuitable wild abandonment. I now know this was
what surrender felt like in absurd circumstances when my body buckled and I
circled to the ground shaking my hand like an overturned bottle.
The air felt like it had of its own
volition made a glaring error of judgment and stepped on the torque that reconciled
the opposites that attract. The mortally summoned opposites in this
circumstance flying at each other at break neck speed were a passive generation
and the ambivalent angry generation inheriting the problems determined by the
earlier passive attitude. The sound between the two generations was like a
constant misunderstanding where form trumped substance in a repetitive parroted
excuse to delay that came in the form of badgering blended with the product of maddening
emotional disconnection. It was a torque that assembled cruel neglect and allocated
to the air a surprising feel of gnashing teeth.
