Linked

Cheery little us, we stand together, bound like a mast in rigging. Circuited amiably with electricity, which we then use to circuit amiably. "On the grid" as they say.

We learn in a grandiose fashion, knowledge displayed up however we like. Images whisked from their storage states away, and vividly brought before our meandering eyes, sometimes given less than a thought.

When we are barraged we are barraged together. "Did you see that one commercial...?"

We all did.

It was targeted at us.

We are a demographic.

But, when something profound is said it bounces around. Happy, euphoric, little jumps to me and you and maybe me again. Until it is so thoroughly quoted it becomes a part of our religion. The religion of discerned wisdom.

Someone will give it a second thought, reword it, and send it out again.

We can chew on the same piece of inspiration endlessly. Limitless teriyaki jerky.

Who doesn't want that?

Look at us, all linked together in ways we never thought we could be. The lowest get raised up, and the raised seem dragged down.

But at the end of the day, the human mess, the American state, is we.

Killing is bad, cheating hurts, love is all we want, and money would be nice. That recipe looks good, this cat video is funny, and the song was catchy.

So thanks for that, us. See you all tomorrow.

The walk

Are you ever more consistent than the world around you? Are you ever more regular than the river, constant than the cars that travel down the boulevard?

A westbound sun places my shadow in trailer parks, The Paul Ream, and Jones Paint and Glass. Sees my footprint cross the river bridge, the school yard, and Burrelle's.

The children leaving Independence, heads bowed with homeward-bound homework-thoughts.

And then the sun and sky and traffic loses me somewhere on 800 North. Slipping into a shadow, with a beep and a deep breath.

Every week, and every working day.

You could say I walk the walk. I fail to speak.

And, here I am still walking. Here I am still trudging up that remote road, and I outlive the river, dying of thirst.

The bridge deviates into gang signs before I stumble off my path.

The year ends and begins for institutionalized education, but I am still here, walking.

When will the world and I collide?

When will someone tell me to get off the path, take a different route, threaten me with alterior motivations?  Altered me or else?

It will it be at night, when my heels mark the passing of eight hours. When all but ill intent sleeps on soft beds with worried heads.

That's when I'll grace the road with streetlights, welcome their orange awareness, and leave the shade to the shadows.

Focus Group

When I think of an experiment there must always be a division in results, for contrast. "You get the real deal. You get a placebo"

You get the experimental new cancer meds. You get sugar pills.

You get to live in a house with the new carpet. You only think you do.

You both get something.

That's what we take.

Everyone is a winner.

"That's unlike life, though, sir. In life the winner is rewarded, and the vanquished are not."

I'll have you know that the candy may be won by the focus group, but the control group does something odd. Something when you tell them they are the control group.

"You're not getting it"

You're just going to watch as someone else does.

You get to desire.

A desire for that candy is born.

A motivation to DO something and acquire it.

And, That is their reward.

Both get something. But, who was really the control group?