October 9, 2009

It's been eighty-three minutes
since the arrival of the thirty-fifth.
The man in blue looks at the door,
anticipating another arrival.

Walking by the alignment of white
cocoons, he feels motion. No! That is
not possible! It must have been the wind
that made the white blankets respond
to his every weak step. Of course!
It’s the wind. No doubt.

He looks up to the ceiling,

horrified to see water crystals
eager to fall down to the floor
defiled with muddy footprints.

Hinges painfully squeak as the door opens
with so much emphasis. He becomes
invisible as distorted faces pass through him.
A scream, a sob, a series of bitter banging
of brittle fists on battered walls.
The gathering has begun.

Knees attacking the innocent floor,
Earthy human sounds resonating all over
the room. To and fro! To and fro! – and
The thoughtless rocking seems to go on
non-stop.

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! – Beats the
brutal pounding of deformed
composure against the frightened floor.
Smeared faces abandoning all thoughts
of vanity.

The man stares at the gathering
for a long time- clenched fists in his
pockets, face devoid of human kindness,
Exhausting all human effort not to
desecrate his uniform.

Outside, branches point to where the
creator (destoyer)has headed, vindicating themselves
of man’s orgasmic infinity.