Member-only story
seat
from here my seat looks pretty small
a stadium worker cleans it all
and I’m wondering how much
plastic and metal is in this epic place…
the glass will settle, and you will see
all those who elect to stand up again,
in the roar, the shake, amidst the chorus
quake, cracks in the shiny hard-wooden
majestic garden floors… hear this secret,
they call me a dark disaster keeper,
indexing stress-induced experiences
waiting for the sad grim reaper,
exercising sick excuses on the daily…
touch a new tree every day,
walk out there, count them, feel
the solid bark, today it’s three,
tomorrow maybe two, but someday
I’ll hug much more than a few…
there’s been more than a few
afternoons where I’ve been asked
to be someone’s worstman,
you’ve been downgraded to the
basic package, you have to eat
sludge food, and wear torn clothes
and think about how ugly fear is…
I fully expect you to come back
and shake me all up again…
progress is so slow, it’s barely
detectable sometimes, and I
think of this: are we a family?
or just a bunch of strangers
loosely tied together by some
shared geography and a last name
