Fear in Mad House

 

A Poem?

 

Alexander Liss

 

06/18/00

 

Rainy summer day in New York. So unusual. I cannot keep my body busy walking in a Park. I cannot stretch it on the roof under the sun and make it sleepy.

I recall an explanation of this soggy weather with global warming. I recall another explanation of another wet summer - "Rockets made holes in the sky".

About the same merit.

I am fed up with this kind of science. I drift in the world of images.

     A big round tower in the middle of nowhere. A bunch of people around it. They press firmly their palms to the smooth surface of the tower; they stretch their hands as wide as they can. They walk around the tower, all in one direction.

     It could be a funny picture, but I am among them.

     The space between palms we call our possession; we protect it. Kids are short and they manage to grab their "possession" beneath ours; we cannot kick them out. We explain this out - "We love children".

     We do talk with others, but talk is cheap. The space between palms is important.

We walk around and call it the spiral development. May be because, we are older, when we reach the same point next time.

     No one dares to take palms out of the tower.

I think I know why. It is scary.

I overcame this Fear once. I dared to step out of The Tower. I had only enough courage to make a step and grabbed a column near by. Who knew that it exists - we stared at the tower wall all time.

Fear kept me at the column, I did not dare to walk away. Eventually, I've got lonely and hungry and I walked back to The Tower.

I grabbed myself a "possession" and I am busy protecting it. "Is there difference in holding a column or holding The Tower? At least, when I hold The Tower, I can pass as a normal among insane."

Is it possible to walk free, but alone? I doubt.