In The Cleared

This landscape was full of fatalities,
flooded with them, in fact,
momentary lapses that resulted in dead air,
in a sedentary life meant only for another century

And at the turn of this century,
we thought we had minded the gap,
that we had dodged a bullet of sorts,
but not for long,

There were potholes in the middle of that vineyard,
alluding to the death of an other worldly metropolis,
and maybe, just maybe,
we were all proxies for each other,
skipping rocks when the other one could not,
doing the tip toe through these parts to avoid the land mines

This terrain was full of those mines,
after all,
they were the most inexpensive fear factor,
it did not matter whether they existed or not,
just the figment was enough,
the illusion could,
and would,
hold us all hostage

And that day,
years ago,
and years from now,
we would teach ourselves, again,
how to eat in public