Keep Walking, Citizens

The road keeps going, steerage never more necessary. “Results” are in, but mean nothing, an amnesiac’s dream. The results we see today were laid from 1994 to 2006. America just voted on the lack of results from actions that can’t be expected to give full results for at least two more years. Things must not be as bad as some folks claim — still enough coin jangling their pockets to give out to any carpetbagger who comes by often enough and claims a likeminded grin and tonic.

On the road, if you really have nothing and not a jitney to part with for 99-cent cure-alls, you know what I know: results are flower-petals, “she loves me, she loves me not; she loves me, she loves me not.” America loves you, and she loves you not, and she never will do less than that. She never will stop making you love her, and she never will begin to, truly to, to, you know, that word [nuzzle]. You never will know her by anything more than smell and touch, yet thousands keep burning their ears for a confirming boy-toy’s explanation, keep imagining her sweet voice, keep playing the game: “she loves me not, she loves me, she loves m—….”

Not you, not me. Wake up, roll out of your FOX News/MSNBC blanket. Stuff your ears full of cotton and open your own eyes. Keep watching, keep walking the road, citizens. Every derailed tourist knows you haven’t seen the result until the accident hits. We’ve only just boarded a new train, its destination not yet plotted, its journey inevitable as parallel rails laid north-south-east-west. Be not saitisfied; be not alarmed; be watchful; above all, be memoried.

Remember these days not in two, not in four, but in six, seven, eight years and more. Those will be your results, your destinations, when no one at all will mention these present days, this switching trains before destinations happened. In two years, “D.C., it’s D.C., we’re in D.C., ” they’ll say. “We’re in Tea Party land.” If you’ve packed your memory blanket, you’ll say, “D.C.? I thought we got off somewhere Midwest? Somewhere South? Somewhere back home? I thought we just barely arrived in Chicago?” You’ll say these because true, because memory serves you better than a pundit’s tearful grin and tonic.

Share This

Hide Sites