counter --> culture

I have been alerted that we are in the midst of standardization boys and girls. yes, me and you are all lookin alike, with a few minor adjustments here and there. like the tract houses where you can get different paint colour and a round or hexagonal port window in the gable, we are all the same sane worker bees. and where's the counter culture?

-hell if I know. I got my sweater at the Gap. the home of weaves weaved by little fingers. yes, I am a supporter of homogeneity and ill will in the workforce of imperial money mongers.

where do we go in these dysthimic times?

"well Mr. Butrin let me tell you what. You just sit right there and let me get you a glass of water with that and in time you'll be feelin all right."

so I get on the bus with my headphones on and look over the harbour. in the corner of my eye I can see my fellow passenger. a downward twist in the corner of her mouth betrays her tension, her inability to feel at ease at all.

I see the stacks, newly painted in their red and white stripes. the three plumes today are moving up and then slightly east. the surface of the harbour oily near the dry docks and with a small ripple breaking the sky's mirror for the day.

my head is filled with thoughts of paddling into steep faces. I can visualize flexing my upper torso musculature to lift my chest from the deck and bring my feet under me, shoulder width apart in a parallel stance. I can see the nose of my board inches above the curve of the water and after an instant I can feel the pull of gravity one way as I redirect the sled up the face pushing water with rail and fin.

then the bus halts and I get up, adjust my bag on my shoulder trying not to squish my lunch and apple into a pulpy mess. as I step onto the sidewalk bordering the ancient cemetery I look up at the trees and the church steeple. blue bird skies mean minus something cold and the twiggy leafless branches appear crisply in the light.

I walk up the street and listen intently to the music piped into my ears for the last fleeting moments of free thought.

counter what? who? how?


pushingtide said...

Like you, I try to counter the culture whenever humanly possible.

Anonymous said...

and then one day you find, ten years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun...