Sunday, June 12, 2011

3138. WITNESS

WITNESS
An unwrapped gauze of circumstance, he held tight to
the green-painted railing. Some blood was trickling
from his mouth and his small hat had fallen from
his head. Next to him, a man with a ukulele was
stupidly singing on, as if nothing untoward was
occurring. Some standard of sub-standard uselessness
was making itself felt. On the ceiling tiles, the light
was refracted into false rainbows, a scattering of broken
light and rays of indistinct texture. Learning long ago
to have nothing and live with that, I offered no resistance
to what appeared to be fighting back - a variety of
useless and awkward bile. Thinking to myself, in a
telegraphic fashion, 'was this the way things always
are?' I ascribed new meaning to the moment : disgust,
disfavor, and a dissimilitude of want and need - neither of
them representing, really, anything at all. I watched
another man spit as he sauntered by. More waves of
revulsion swept over me. Short of Death, only a gun
would do justice to this scene. Calamity, I saw finally,
now had a nation, a land, and a kingdom of its own.




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