deepundergroundpoetry.com
Going out
I sat alone at the table waited on by a lab technician in a hazmat suit.
The kind of situation that would seem normal
if I was ordering weapons-grade uranium to-go.
His muffled voice could barely cut through the triple layered protection
designed to keep him immune to even the wrath of god.
A few awkward chuckles and invisible faux-smiles later he was on his way
to the reactor to retrieve my lunch.
I notice the only other person bold enough to brave the new world
like me a few tables to my right.
His gaze is sharp and full of intent.
Like a pet dog on a leash that in spite of the nudge
would rather be choked and hoisted than turn away from his target.
I see him casually alternating between the 'glancing somewhere else' look
and the 'all too well timed' nods almost immediately as I look in his direction.
The bomb diffuser had just arrived with his order and spared me any further interaction
beyond a wave.
I had gotten used to the quiet.
To listening to the trees breathe, the birds sing, the breeze wheeze.
To not having to utter syllables out in the open for fear of the wind carrying them to
unconscientious ears.
But I was feeling lazy and decided to take a day off
and explore this concrete wasteland now abandoned by the fear mongering
of those we entrusted to rule us.
And so far it doesn't seem like we're all too happy with how things have turned out.
Out of the vaccuum chamber comes the physicist with my pork salad.
The chemist refuses to accept my dyed cellulose and insists that I satisfy his concerns
related to finance electronically.
On my way out I bump into 'Mr optical sex' coming back in with a complaint regarding his order.
Funnily he didn't even notice me this time round.
A joke about one night stands came to mind and I chuckled
as I waited arm outstretched for a taxi.
The forensics investigator stopped in front of me and inquired, then accepted the fare.
On the way home I saw the ones entrusted to protect and serve punish and enslave.
The kind of situation that would seem normal
if I was ordering weapons-grade uranium to-go.
His muffled voice could barely cut through the triple layered protection
designed to keep him immune to even the wrath of god.
A few awkward chuckles and invisible faux-smiles later he was on his way
to the reactor to retrieve my lunch.
I notice the only other person bold enough to brave the new world
like me a few tables to my right.
His gaze is sharp and full of intent.
Like a pet dog on a leash that in spite of the nudge
would rather be choked and hoisted than turn away from his target.
I see him casually alternating between the 'glancing somewhere else' look
and the 'all too well timed' nods almost immediately as I look in his direction.
The bomb diffuser had just arrived with his order and spared me any further interaction
beyond a wave.
I had gotten used to the quiet.
To listening to the trees breathe, the birds sing, the breeze wheeze.
To not having to utter syllables out in the open for fear of the wind carrying them to
unconscientious ears.
But I was feeling lazy and decided to take a day off
and explore this concrete wasteland now abandoned by the fear mongering
of those we entrusted to rule us.
And so far it doesn't seem like we're all too happy with how things have turned out.
Out of the vaccuum chamber comes the physicist with my pork salad.
The chemist refuses to accept my dyed cellulose and insists that I satisfy his concerns
related to finance electronically.
On my way out I bump into 'Mr optical sex' coming back in with a complaint regarding his order.
Funnily he didn't even notice me this time round.
A joke about one night stands came to mind and I chuckled
as I waited arm outstretched for a taxi.
The forensics investigator stopped in front of me and inquired, then accepted the fare.
On the way home I saw the ones entrusted to protect and serve punish and enslave.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 4
reads 655
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.