NEUTRAL COLORS ON
A BLIND RED FIELD
Your brinkmanship makes me nervous, and I
really hate your fingers. The kids are piling
into their schoolbus again. There's no solution
to that stuff at all - they are simply excess, so
we send them away. If this were a real world,
they would be ours, and we would teach them.
Instead we slough them off onto unsuccessful
thinkers who need programs to survive.
I have the mettle to be Captain, and you should
pay me for things : start to set me up, bolster my
place. As it is, everything goes away for free and I
have to listen to those other things instead. Cats
and sympathy, and the heartfelt erasures of the
chalky brave. All I see is a world of blackboard
smudge, dancing now on a skein of electronics
and virtual reference to nothing at all.
He died, poor and alone, destitute and unhappy,
lonesome and unknown.