"Would you like your groceries
bagged in paper or plastic?
will you be paying with paper,
Or plastic?"

Rock paper scissors
has been replaced
With something
more rudimentary
But essentially,
Neither have intentionality.

No matter how far you try to move
away from synthetic
you're still drinking out of plastic
eating out of plastic
driving, walking, buying, *******
out mounds of it.
You put your plastic in plastic,
leave it outside
until a man swings by
throws it into a pit
with all the other wasted ****
to exist
for all eternity.

Would you rather melt or burn?
Bankruptcy is a hard lesson to learn
But the ashes of this economy have been
Touted as prosperity
Instead of resigned to an urn
To relearn the transparency
of democracy
As it should be.

I'll trade my plastic smile
For a fistful of paper
I'll exchange it for something physical,
Something bigger
Something somehow better,
Sans the improvement.
The reanimation of the market
Capitalism! Ah,
The dream land.
“Build your monopoly
Crush your enemy”

Oops I mean your neighbor
They're all the same
in this day and age.
Community has been sold
for pennies on the dollar.
Now we’re fighting tooth and nail
To be the one
wearing the shock collar

Bzzzt!
I have the most likes on my photo
Bzzzzt
This minor annoyance
has become my addiction.
I’m shopping and sharing
And living within this tiny television.

This is post apocalyptic
You just can't see it
Because you're living in it.
Things are better, yes
But 6.7% of Americans are diagnosably,
incurably depressed.
37% are oppressed
44%  are over stressed and
81% are in debt.

Let me just say this now
From my white-privilege-podium
That keeps all adverse effects
Of free speech
From touching me

****
YOUR
AMERICA.

**** this corporate greed
that grinds itself down
and repackages itself into
“The American Dream”.

and **** us, right?
For thinking anything here was free.

****** cold it was, this February night in Virginia.
Five or six degrees thereabouts with a bit of wind.
Hard to stay warm in the shack,
even with the heat running full blast.
Had to keep the window cracked just a tad in case I dozed.
The sound of the car engines would snap me back to consciousness
as they turned onto the property - the school property.
This is my moonlight gig,
midnight to eight - Saturday and Sundays, seven years now.
No major happenings.
No Taliban attempting a takeover.
No student going over the deep end
from home sickness.
Just an occasional alarm mishap,
or ambulance call for a sick resident.
But this morning was about to change all that.

It was 4:00am and my relief was just turning
the corner at the top of the hill.
It was time for my 30 minute nap at the Security office.
I hated the idea of leaving the shack,
climbing into my cold car and driving, shivering
on my way to some shut-eye,
but it would be worth it because
by 4:00am, I'm a bit buggy
and the thirty minute catnap would revive me til quittin' time.

The security office is located inside the business office,
a two story brick building which handles shipping along with several manager's offices, including Chief of Security.
I arrived, was about to make my way up the stairs
when I decided to check out
the candy dispenser in the small room to the left
on the bottom floor.
I've known it was there for seven years,
but not once in all that time have I altered my immediate
route to the stairs.
Perhaps because my time on these breaks is limited,
and every minute of sleep is precious.
This time, for whatever reason, I changed my routine.
As I was walking towards the candy dispenser,
I noticed a framed photo on the wall.
It was a photo of a gentleman who had worked here for thirty years.
A gentleman who also passed away on the property.
There was writing...thanking him for his service.
I proceeded to the candy and chips...nothing special here
as I suspected.
I then proceeded to the Security office,
pulled up a chair, leaned back and closed my eyes.
Something was different.
In seven years I'd never felt in any way a presence other than my own,
until now.
The old 25 watt lamp on the desk behind me began flickering and making that noise a bulb makes before it goes out...bzzzt...bzzzzt.
To my right was the office door - closed.
I was able to see the light of the hallway in the inch or so of clearance at the bottom. I'm not sure what drew me to look there, but just as I did, a large chunk of the light became blocked from right to left, then back, then back again as if a woman in a long dress or a man in a trench coat was walking back and forth. I tried to convince myself that this was the hallway lights flickering as well, but I knew better.
I mustered enough courage to slowly rise from the chair, which made  an ungodly creek, and walk slowly to the door. I opened it to find no-one there.
I sat back down after turning on the main office lights.
The old saying about the hairs raising on your arms when a spirit is present is true. They were standing straight as soldiers in formation.
I waited about 20 seconds and then began engaging whoever was with me.
'Can I ask your name? Did you work here?'
Before I could ask the next question, the lights went completely out.
I blamed it on the cold until I realized that the rest of the campus still had power.
At this point, curiosity and terror were running neck and neck. I sat motionless in the near pitch darkness for 30 to 45 seconds.
I finally gathered enough wits to speak; 'If you wish me to leave, I will do so, but I ask that you please turn the power back...' before I could finish, the power returned. I did not hesitate to make
my exit. I held my breath until I reached the bottom of the stairs, praying that the lights stay on. The hairs finally returned to their normal state when I reached the shack. George was watching 'Uncut Animal Attacks' and chomping on his giant 711 mug full of ice.
'Thanks, George! see ya tomorrow!'

I returned the next night, video recorder in hand and captured what I believe were the words of Jane Kyle -  'The Shrew of Foxcroft'