Tag: society

The Rails

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It’s been fifty years since a train last came through here.
Still, the villagers keep the tracks clear, the rails rust-free, and they replace the wood ties every few years.
They think if they keep the tracks ready, a train will come some day.
“If you put food out on your porch, you get cats,” says the mayor. “So we figure the same for trains, right?”
At night, I like to lie on the tracks and look up at the stars.
As a kid, I heard the whistle, the soft ringing of the rails, the engines…
Lay back and listen.

Two Balls, No Outs

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Spring is here, and that can only mean one thing…
Baseball.
It’s something you can’t experience through the television or the radio.
Go to the park.
Buy peanuts and beer.
Root, root for the home team.
And then, you head for the bathroom, take off all your clothes, and run as fast as you can for the field.
Nothing quite like streaking bare-assed naked.
Try it at home. It just isn”t the same as when you’re there.
The roar of the crowd.
The shouting cops.
The wind in my hair.
Seven bucks for beer?
You can kiss my ass, man!

One Block Away

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I work in the Theater District. There are events going on all the time in this area.
And yet, I’ve gone to so few of them
I pulled up each venue’s calendar and looked over the past few months of events.
I missed a touring Broadway show I wanted to see.
A popular comedian came and went without catching my attention in time.
There”s that ballet someone was raving about in a local forum.
From my desk, it takes me 95 steps to walk to the performance hall next door.
I really need to get out more to these things.

Dancing Goddess

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When the Goddess begins to dance, people from all around will gather by the shore and watch her move in the tide with such grace and beauty.
They drop everything and sway in the evening mist.
Mothers let their babies slip from their grasp and fall into the surf.
Nobody notices the splashes. The Goddess laughs as each sacrifice is made.
Sometimes, after the dance, their bodies wash up on the shore, and there is much grief.
The Goddess has rejected the children.
But when the children wash out to sea, it is said they have become her royal consorts.

Trademark

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In all the signals the aliens sent us, there was never a harsh word or a profanity uttered.
Completely friendly.
It wasn’t until their delegation landed and their people walked around did we realize it was going to be an issue.
You see, in their language, many corporation names and trademarked brands were the most vile things imaginable.
“Coke” was a revolting sexual act.
“Disney” was scatological in nature.
“Ford” was akin to genocide.
And so on.
So, eventually, they gave up on our planet and went on to the next one.
While we drank our Cokes and waved goodbye.

Spaceman

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He said he was a spaceman and that he’d come a long way to visit Earth.
I shook his hand and welcomed him to our planet.
He thanked me, took off his helmet, and looked around.
“It looks a lot different since the last time I was here,” he said.
“How long has it been since you were last here?” I asked.
“A while,” he said. “Too long, I guess.”
“Yeah, things change quickly these days,” I said. “Kinda hard to keep up.”
We sat for a while, drank a few beers, and watched the stars.
“Too long,” he said.

Electro the Magnificent

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Electro the Magnificent ran everything for almost a thousand years.
Every decision was made by this amazing and powerful electronic brain.
Even Electro’s critics found it to be perfectly capable of responding to all problems with a fair solution.
Over the centuries, humans tried to revere Electro as a god, but Electro guided people away from treating it like a cult figure.
At the end of a thousand years, there was peace, prosperity, and unity not only on Earth, but all human worlds.
Researchers stopped the model at that point.
“So, should we turn it on?” one asked.
Would you?

Sign Here

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Nobody notices as she slips in through the back door, silent as a whisper.
Everybody’s busy getting ready for the last scene, shoving props around. Costume changes.
She recognizes a few of the actors and gets out her little autograph book.
“Excuse me,” says a voice. She nearly jumps out of her skin as a man with a clipboard taps her on the shoulder. “Are you with the press?”
She’s frozen. She doesn’t know what to say. She-
“Yes,” says an actor. “She’s here to interview me.”
The clipboard-holder vanishes.
The actor opens the book, signs his name, and smiles.

The Butter River

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In the morning, we walk to the river of melted butter that runs through our village.
Others are already there, waiting for the Buttermaster to proclaim the river clean.
He inspects the flow, confirms that our upstream neighbors are still neighborly, and measures some samples in his testing apparatus.
A light shines green.
“Safe!” he shouts.
We cheer.
Lined up on the shore, we dip our toast and biscuits into the river and savor each bite.
“The river is good,” I say.
My family grunts their agreement.
Nobody double-dips here – that is impolite, unsanitary, and a crime punishable by flogging.

Bowling Alley

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A neighborhood only gets a movie theater when people there go to the movies so often, some chain finds profit bringing the movies to them instead of making those folks drive an hour or two.
It’s not the same with bowling alleys. Those chains use satellite photography to watch empty fields for kids playing sandlot bowling, rolling balls over the uneven, rocky ground at makeshift pins.
Or maybe they put their agents in shoe stores, listening for when someone asks to rent the ugliest pair in the store for a few hours.
Whatever you do, do it fast.
We”re desperate!