Monday, March 5, 2018

America Meets Occupy Wall Street


America stumbles through the throngs everything so bright and everything so loud and everything so beautiful, you know - America stumbling stoned just the girl who drank the KoolAid at that party. She had been robbed and she had been raped and she had been brutalized by all the fears and all the greed and all the ego of men. Wearing tattered clothes, sporting her leanest physique ever, baring her cross of poverty and hopelessness and powerlessness and despair - Fuck it all to hell, America thinks, laughing out loud now, shamelessly - fuck it all to living hell yeah sure so what I drank that KoolAid!
She is not angry, really, just very, very stoned.
Hey, hey, she asks a passing tall, young man with a thick black beard wearing an old, worn baseball cap that reads: "Local 341" - hey, you! pointing a thin, long, bony finger at his chest - where the hell am I?
Your in Wall Street, Honey - just look up? the young man smiles, pointing his own finger directly upward at a thin patch of blue sky above between the towering buildings, laughing with America.
As America takes a long look upward, she hears the young man moving off now yelling back at her in a friendly way - Welcome to "Occupy Wall Street"!
Whatever THAT is? She wonders vaguely.
Those buildings scream up into the sky itself throwing her instantly into a fit of vertigo. America spinning in place a few times abruptly plops her thin ass down hitting the hard pavement with a thud. It sends a shock wave up from her tailbone through her spine popping out her crown chakra shooting up into that delirious sliver of blue sky above.
She thinks she might throw up.
Thinking to herself - I just need to sit here a moment: damn! Thinking a little wildly, giddy-lost in the rush of people swirling all around her at what seems to her just then fantastic speeds.
What the hell was in that KoolAid?
One thing is certain, America says out loud now with an inkling of clarity (but not so loud as anyone might hear her in the hustle of the busy, weekday street) looking up at the jitterbugging throngs of people around her and then further up past them again at the tops of the buildings and that magnificent sliver of bright, blue sky thinking seriously now - head spinning - these are my people here: RIGHT HERE GODDAMMIT!
America flashes a goofy grin at no one in particular just before throwing up violently onto the dirty pavement between her thin legs.

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