Fear, Anxiety and Conformity

There it is…

in the corner of the room…

like Bob from Twin Peaks.

 

I never noticed him before.

Lurking.

Growling.

One wide eye...

a perfect square.

 

Ragged.

Vicious.

Wearing makeup…

made up by the professional.

 

Breaking - Just In -

Two warring nations…

“Nuclear.”

Don’t forget nuclear…

say it loud,

say it often,

just in case we forgot.

 

Purposeful panic…

a reminder:

Armageddon

is always just a headline away.

 

My chest tightens.

Anxiety climbs.

 

I have a boy.

A son.

A child who loves ice cream.

 

He plays pirates…

plastic figures from the supermarket.

 

Yes…

a luxury.

 

Slave to the dollar!

Slave to the system!

 

Conform to the noise.

Sit in the corner.

Watch Bob.

 

He stares…

wide-eyed…

beautifully painted.

And I am terrified.

 

The Cartels.

The Mafias.

The Gangsters...

making their money.

 

The posh Cartels.

The accepted Mafia.

The ones in suits…

those who write the rules…

terrify me more.

 

Where am I?

How did we get here?

 

But I…

I am a working-class man.

 

I stand at the cliff edge…

and I ask:

 

Who brought us here?

Who?

Who?

Who?

 

Bob smiles.

He smiles with his golden briefcase.

 

And still…

I sit…

in the corner.