Right now there’s seven trucks parked at an intersection a mile from my house, selling despondent teddy bears smothered in cellophane and sad flowers to boys who don’t know any better.
“Oh”, she says, “you shouldn’t have.”
Right now men worry that a heap of pink and red carnival prizes will not adequately convey the landscape of their soul. The great universal principal, sold from a truck on the side of the road and delivered in a heart shaped box for under $5.
Right now an orchestra drowns out the whisper of a lone person’s sorrow. She is not louder than them but she still makes a sound. Right now house plants gather around a light bulb and pretend it is the sun.
Right now women in another tax bracket snatch up a small box with a big price tag and act like it changes something, makes up for something, is something when in fact it is only a thing. “I would rather have your real love”, she says to herself, but it doesn’t stop her from bragging to her friends.
Right now men struggle with inadequacy, am I good enough, and they perform disingenuous feats. Like circus bears dressed in humiliating costumes, ready to perform on demand, not motivated by something they want, only desperate to avoid the cost of disobedience .
Right now the culture of guilt says you will comply or you shall not have love. But this isn’t love.
Right now the anxiety of misunderstanding is profitable for someone.
Right now a million years ago was just another day.