A notion inspired by the Reverend --

Washed Bleach Clean by the Airwaves

With the jingle jangle of coins
I hear the moneychanger:
I see his slit eyes,
gold-gleaming grin.
I watch a pumping out of currency,
electronically stimulated
at a dollar per hour rate
that would surpass the sum total
of daily wages
in Singapore.

I blink my eyes

It's sitting in the driveway,
all silver and streamlined
with an emblem erected in shiny steel,
like an obelisk.

I stare then look away

It's that boilerplate bank statement:
[OUTSTANDING BALANCE] [REMIT AMOUNT SHOWN HERE] [OVERDUE PAYMENT]
It could be anyone's.
It has no sympathy.

I sigh

The exhausted breath of the television
idling on a commercial.
I see it.
Which one? Oh, you know the one.
The one that reveals the orgiastic brilliance of product
and the happiness it's acquisition creates:
Inhumanly straight teeth.
Over-inflated breasts.
Imaginary garments.
Oh, and just the right number of MINORITIES
(They're a key demographic too you know)
Sprinkled with Black and Yellow and a dash of Brown.
There, that should do.

I feel my throat closing

Gripped by the weight on your shoulders.
The crushing weight.
It is Atlas' burden bearing down.
Those above and below you survive
off the bounty of your toil
yet if you do not lift
it will crush you.

I cry no tears

It is the man in the cage.
Morally objective justice
in a morally subjective playground.
Scheming and dreaming.
Inventing grotesque fantasies
of revenge fulfillment.
Being fed fear and cable tv.

I close my eyes to sleep

It is the aching numbness as you awaken.
Stumble to work.
Twisted wreck on the highway.
Frozen in place.

I am an indentured servant,
bowing and scraping for Master's mercy.
But the Master, my Big Brother, does not truly possess me.

My Will ascends

I dance and flail

I owe them nothing,
so to nothing I will return.  ¶ 7/16/2003 09:29:00 AM