Thursday, April 16, 2009

You've Read It In Your Tea Leaves


The Knight Orchid ~ Scott Scheidly

And I’ve heard of creatures
Who eat their babies;
And I wonder if they stop
To think about the taste.
Sunset Rubdown ~ Us Ones In between


Something is dying; Mica can smell it in the air – like an approaching storm – she can read it in the body language of the morning commuters as she struggles against the flow pouring from the station entrance.
Fear is woven into the fabric of everyday life.
The lines of riot police have become commonplace over the weeks; cameras capture the arc of falling batons; no excuses offered for the blood spilled on what were once pedestrian arcades of brightly-lit commerce.
Diverse groups claim the moral high ground.
For days now the news has been artificially bland; all of the tired old tried and true methods wheeled out to sedate the sub-aural boiling anger.
She senses them scanning her chip as she hips her way through the turnstiles; an involuntary tensing of her shoulders in anticipation of further attention.
The plasma news-feed on the platform subtitles the apology and belligerent rectitude of another politician caught with his fingers in the honey-pot.
Mica wonders, as she steps onto the train, whether is it true that people are corrupted by power, or whether the propensity for corruption is inherent in all of us.
She scans the averted faces of her fellow travellers, fearful of eye contact lest they give offence for intruding into that fragile shell of egg-like space that surrounds each one; each unsuccessfully shielding a life story from the probing eye; each with the bitter truth etched in the curve at lip corner or crow foot crease; and yet each projecting their strength in public isolation.
The travellers lurch in unison as the train leaves the station.
She lifts her eyes to read the meaningless words on the rectangles selling charity and money, (the one cancelling the other in shameless ignorance) and feels guilt for her feelings: how come nobody else feels this way, this weight, this wasting away?
Something is dying; Mica hopes that enough life will remain to nurture what comes next.

7 comments:

Candie Bracci said...

:)

Leah said...

...beware the savage jaw, indeed.

Just over from Jimmy Bastard's!

You've got a phenomenally beautiful blog, and I've been enjoying going backwards and taking a look.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Candie: ¦D

Leah: Welcome and thank you!

James Higham said...

as she hips her way through the turnstiles

Yes.

subtorp77 said...

Politicians are the true actors; able to put on any face and play any role, regardless of the amount of honey in the pot.

Donnée Kopenjz said...

I should actually count the number of meaningless rectangles that I am exposed to every day.

Dark. I love the picture..sort of a mishmash of Wednesday Addams and Bjork.

Pisces Iscariot said...

James: You've obviously seen her too :)
Subtorp: unfortunately politician don't even have to be good actors
Donnée: Your new disguise had me fooled for a moment there - watch out for the plaque on that shark - it looks nasty.
Meaningless rectangles rule the world ;]