The Online Literary Magazine of Cerritos College

Poetry

Cynthia Posada

"Believable reality suspended"

                      creating an overly content contortion of time, space, matter…(whatever)

Nothing exists in this world

except that which is reflected on the blank screen,

                                of a TV I should have thrown out years ago.

In the curve of this truth-reflective gray screen I see all that I do… …and don't

And all should not's,

                          what if's?,

                                         and oh no's!,

                    seem for an eternal spit-second to be answerable.

Together…

                                            We are the embodiment of youth gone wrong,

                                            of a generation of slackers …forever lost and mislabeled

                                            We are the infinitely variable variable

                                            in an unnecessarily complex algebra equation

                                            forced upon us by neo-nazi college professors

                                            in an effort to make us "well rounded" individuals.

We are an equation that has no neatly figured answer

We are a paradox amongst the insanely logical…

…a parallel to the alternate

…an about face, a company halt, a parade rest

a band marching to the proverbial different drummer.

We enjoy this: to be set from the rest

                   and the subsequent bitterness for being left-out…                     …ignored,

             passed by because our differences frighten "them", they can not figure us out,

                                          …(do they really want to).

They tell us We count,

                   We must vote,

                      We must participate if we want to be counted,

                                                      …(do we?).

I don't want to be a part of their society.

I do not want to be their neighbor,

Lend them my Black & Decker power saw,

Give them my opinion…                       …or be included in theirs.

The only thing I want,

is to remember how the image of your nakedness

                                                      …curved on that TV screen.

Poetry | Fiction | Essay