Arising
I.
Ah, coffee.
My morning’s best friend.
The drug I need begins my day.
Fuels the belly fire to get through.
The lifeless drudgery.
Ack! WTF!
I spit out the first sip.
My mouth, stained with strange bitterness.
The corporate excrement I cannot place.
I check the coffee pot.
Nothing unusual.
Bad coffee grounds, maybe.
Must be a fluke. A flaw. A feature?
No time for this, though.
No, not late
again?!
II.
Morning shower.
A dense fog rolls in.
The water, no warmer than usual.
I wipe the mirror,
again and again.
The fog will not relent.
Arg! Life in hell.
Trapped in systemic opacity.
Disgusted, I look into the mirror.
It doesn’t look back.
Both sickened by what we might see.
Ouch! I pinch myself. Awake.
I skip the shave and move straight to dressing.
I reach into the usual drawer.
Wallet. Keys. Kerchief.
Wait. Keys? Keys?!
How can the keys
keep walking away?!
III.
The car won’t start.
Check under the hood.
A socio-economic engine.
Try starting it, again.
Damn you, not again!
Again and again.
A final gasp turns to humming.
We roll down the drive.
Only to die by the drain.
Smoke and flames pop the hood.
Emotion. Indignation. Immolation.
Against today’s without tomorrows.
Nostalgia without history.
Humans without humanity.
Life without living.
Hypnotized, the flames
dance in my eyes,
drawn into the allure
of the fiery beauty
of saying
no.
— Dean Bowman
Author's Note
Systems of control bring a false sense of stability and security in exchange for our unconditional commitment and loyalty. The price of which is our autonomy and human agency. This poem is an expression of this experience and something more.
Dean Bowman