Dumpster Diving On Farwell
Once the police began to ban
all social gatherings, we decided
to reignite the ritual of barbarism
crucial at the core of survival
without compassion or cause of
duty, simply to have something
destructive to do that didn't land
us behind the grid to be silenced.
Cruelty gets harnessed in fists
compressing the void like the
nothings we were always deemed
to be on our side of normalcy,
just parallel to every other street
named after a plague or society-
collapsing fire or market tumble,
running ramshackle into destiny.
As the lines of communication get
tossed aside by fearful minds raiding,
even the act of standing firm becomes
a challenge to the status of plenty.
Each sting rebuilds my structure
anew in memory and scar tissue
to capture the element not boxed
for barter or sale: my immortality.
Copyright © John Weber | Year Posted 2010
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