Sitting With the Uncertainty

This still feels like the transition. Like we are suspended in the space between. Not quite in the new structure. Not all the way out of the old order.

Things aren’t what they seem. The way it looks is only part of the story. Sometimes it can really look like one thing, so convincing. Moves like a, smells like a, sounds like a duck. Quacks its way across the screen of your mind. Setting up camp.

It’s all imaginary but we know what comes after. We’ve all read the books, seen the movies. The conclusion feels inevitable but it’s not determined. You can lead all the horses to the brink of disaster but they jump over one by one.

As it dawns on some it sets on others. The zero sum pie slices transparent as we pass the plates, hoping the cake walk music stops on a bigger wedge. If you leave more space in front there is less space behind.

The music stops. The empty chair in front closer than the one behind. Sliding your hips in diagonally, one cheek farther than anyone ever imagined. They sit in your lap for one brief nanosecond, leg muscles straining to hover, then rise. You watch them walk away. The chair is yours.

The music starts again. You rise reluctantly, watch the scarcity take one more chair, the faces of those left standing set in determination. It’s not about the prize. The wooden toy. The cake. The feeling of winning. It’s about proving yourself to people you’ll never see again. It’s about enough.

There isn’t enough. They’ve made that clear. There will be winners and there will be losers and this is the game. Walk faster if you want to survive. There are less of us each time. We can’t stop the music. Maybe there is no cake. You can’t decide not to play. Keep walking.

Your head down. No smiles now. Step. One chair. Step step. Two people. When will it end? When we stop circling and split the cake. No one gets the whole thing and you don’t get to choose. The toys can’t save you. This memory haunts the winner and loser alike. It was a game. Until you won.

Fighting for survival. Somewhere between here and there on a long trail things shifted. Fatigue set in. The music started to waver and the cake. All the chairs are made out of cake and it is raining now and the streams of green food coloring trickle down and puddle at the feet of the DJ. They are afraid to touch the system for fear of shock so the music plays on, no one left to listen.

Just one chair. Standing alone. In the rain.