Below the Fold

Interlude
July 27, 2009

Notching the legs in another round-table discussion. Asking favors from the ever-present wait staff...waiting their turn for the tune to begin...for the inevitable musical-chair changes -- when the big talkers who cover up their identity with words and good looks get the ol' chair-from-under-them routine. Falling hard on their backsides and taking up positions of opposition. Gotta hurt.

Catching a glimpse of a better effort and taking risky looks behind the curtain. Never a safe endeavor for the forward minded individual. Contemplating all those avenues of destruction, all paved so carefully and disguised so ingeniously -- to the point where travelers never realize there even on it, and by the time they do, it's far too late -- which happens to be when the popular "might as well enjoy the ride" consolations start kicking in.

Forming those stylized notions of a crippled identity. Peeled layers, forgotten for the time being. Crystallized emotions and postcard remembrances. Stuck between the final versions of how we have come to be. Lost in shadow and stolen contemplation. Grabbing those greeting cards, serving their true purpose. Layering the pain in sweet talking sentiment.

Are we all feeling a bit sick to our stomach?

And nobody is walking along this path tonight. They've all taken shelter against the gathering storm. Inequity disbursing its motions. Cracks in the sidewalk concealing terrors beyond any imagining. Anytime now you will realize that what was expected from you never had a chance of materializing.

Stacked decks building this house of cards, set to tumble at the slightest reverberation -- the inevitable echo that lies waiting in all our tomorrows (probably related to that first scream, the one that started all this, the call that beckoned a response, rushing toward you through the years, picking up momentum, leaving its mark, waiting around the corner). Don't bother plugging your ears...not now.

It's all part of that long drive into the sleepy coastal town. Rolling through the windswept scenery, grabbing a bite at the outdoor restaurant and sitting on a sandy park bench and listening to the ocean's memory. And you finally make that brave stand, walking towards the building on the horizon with tears in your eyes (is it the wind or the sand or something else causing the salty streams?)...preparing yourself for what might be lying hidden behind the decaying facade.

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