Did you ever wonder if maybe this
Is the dystopia of which we are afraid?
This land of physical comfort and spiritual
A time when the greedy run amok
Treating those who accomplish tasks as less than
Those who sit around and think them up.
Where hard work gets you almost enough to afford the many things which stand between me and a days worth of bread.
When shelter means an energy bill, and phone, and water, and something called insurance
Which they tell us will cover our losses
If they happen to be caused by this
But not that
I’m tired of pretending
That the color or fabric
of my shirt indicates something
That avoiding rips or stains makes me, what?
A person whose clothes conform to some bizarre
Cultural definition of
Your system sucks.
It turns children into
Let’s try this.
We work together.
I give up something. Maybe my precious sense of being right.
Maybe my privacy.
Or the lie that I’ll be happier if you’re sadder.
Or the illusion of control.
You give up that upgrade. The illusion of better.
The need to compare yourself.
In exchange, we get something new.
A social contract.
Less stifling ozone
But not in a silly way.
No aesthetic minimalism
No moralizing asceticism
canned tomatoes, not fresh
seasonal produce, what an anachronism
more sea turtles