Ornamental
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Somewhere in the world, probably in England, middle-aged women are sipping hot tea and making small talk over finger sandwiches and the tabloids.
The ones I call my friends are gathered around a plastic table with a brightly colored, copywrited logo chipping off into tiny little McFlakes.
The arch is still distinguishable, a corporate marvel. The paint may contain small amounts of lead and the food they're waiting for, well... Nevermind, it's cheap.
And they sip their iced tea.
Somewhere else in the world a man is becoming enlightened. Maybe achieving nirvana, dissolving into the universe..................................
But more realistically, in the next minute alone, a few hundred people will die. Some of starvation, some of lead poisoning.
We converse about the metaphysical, cultural icons and natural phenomenons.
A Bud Light commercial plays in the background. The Voice of Our Generation.
We indulge.
Children will die in Africa as sure as you will be late to work.
We strike a balance, we strike a deal with our employers. Our time for their money. Some succeed but we all die on our time.
I don't do my laundry or go to the grocery store today.
I stare at the clock and laugh out loud.
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