The Spectators

in poetry •  6 years ago 

I was in Vegas outside a convention hall. People were leaving. They were swearing that the current speaker was too conservative. Others disagreed and said he was a socialist. They were hostile, saying, "He should really just shut up!" and "He is taking too long!"

I then dropped something like a clock. It broke into hundreds of pieces with little screws. The screws sunk into the red carpet. A barefoot woman in a white dress came over to me to help look for the parts. She was beautiful and I was a child again.

The convention goers carried out the speaker from the hall. The speaker was a frail man, crippled and weak. They had him wrapped in a huge pearl colored wrap. They sat him down on the ground, alone.

I looked to my right and the barefoot woman smiled kindly at me.

I stood up and yelled, "F*** YOU!" to all the convention goers.

At first, I held back. Then I felt empowered.

I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Roar hubris.

Roar

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