A poetic break

I was an angry young man.
Now I am just angry.
No.
I'm not very angry.
I'm just a man.
A middle aged man
In the process of realizing
It is all a process
The beginning is lost
The end beyond sight
The current moment,
tearing the cloth of time,
is crowded by the past
and the future.
I cannot just exist
I am an American man
burdened and lifted by
the mythology
of the American dream
by the mythology of
freedom
by the mythology of
strength
by the mythology of
happiness
by the mythology of
success
by the mythology of
privacy, safety, religion, fairness
and finally
I exist in a shell
of pride and shame
but in the end
it is good
because I can know
I exist

A Haiku

A cold veil of white
so still seen at a distance
thinly covers life

A Wal-Mart moment

I found myself trudging through the bright wasteland of our local chapter of Sam Walton's monument to consumerism yesterday. My plan was to quickly make my escape after gathering motor oil and a filter. I quickly found what I needed and made my way to the cashiers. There were some open self service positions, but after previous experience with the self service devices, I'd hoped to find a traditional cashier. As I walked, I crossed paths with a man slightly older than myself with a handful of merchandise. He was also looking for a way out. As I passed him I heard him grumble under his breath, "f*cking Wal-Mart's a pain in the ass." It brought a smile to my face. In a few words he articulated the paradoxical relationship many of us have with the biggest retailer in the world. We curse as we hand our money to them. Over time the pain fades and we return for more.

It is like so many other things.