Red Queen

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red queengoing into a relationship in anticipation of everything, leads to an excitement and adrenaline charge that opens you to all that is possible. after all this is the reason for your hire, the possibilities you represent for the organization if they can obtain your services, their investment in you.

and so it goes, you are oriented, invigorated, they’re just doing their job, by the endless accomplishment and history the organization has negotiated in its existence, and now you are a part of it. who can say it does not heighten the senses to be a part of something new, at least something that seems new, to you?

days turn to weeks and weeks turn into more of the same, an agenda of compliant monotony and a set of norms that seemingly creeped out of the ooze from the open drain in the cafeteria. how is it that an organization’s  banality is so easily missed amidst the smiling vacuousness of the introductions? europeans are trained to spot these things. we americans are prone to the promises of presidents.

soon you discover welcome does not signal an invitation to participate. informed that if your opinion is desired, you will be informed, with feigned delicacy effected with such exceedingly polite and ingenious dark arts of deception even the board carries no sway with this queen? are there really two boards? one to keep her entertained, another one pretending, for society’s sake of course? so clever.

meanwhile, real experience is actually not all that exciting it seems. after all, anyone can learn a new language, just try talking a little louder? and of course, we are all experts, surely you will agree? I mean how hard can it be? just circle some wagons, bring snacks? quarterly, we do need the cash?

transition comes with question marks lined with hyphens and back slashes, and naturally, periods. its call is of the Serengeti less the natural beauty. still the painted faces, the massive haunches of the sedentary, the red-maned, bloody fangs and snaggled teeth of beasts once wild, the wonder of evolution. how will it pay?

she has no interest in discovery and anyone can tell you they don’t come cheap, so when the world turns upside down, it’s not a shock she blushes white and empties all our pockets, dumping assets like the world has changed for good? how could she know? her creation has neither sense nor compass, nor does she care, this is just a game and so we lose ourselves. we lose.

cash earns no interest makes it simple? volunteers take time, surrender to the pimps? keep the offerings current, so much work, can’t we sleep? intellectual capital we can rent? take Fridays off, we needn’t worry? besides the red queen smart, never mind her aged dulling chops, covets this her discharge, the honored decree by specious subcommittee, hear ye this, she cannot be trifled with work; except on exception. we can’t have the castle dank?

don’t forget the trophies, making marks for fun, dislike, bully targets? her sport is oratory, a one way art that let’s her toss her darts, trained under strict protocol of inebriety, quite sharp we fear? and those kicked to the curb, she regales us all? the bad heart she promises to cash in and spend the tragedy on us, we’re crushed? weakness she creeps behind and stalks the herd in search of strays, they must be made to pay? so many dead we can’t or won’t remember. their words be not quiet.

hostage to a tyrant with a trigger, alas we could not know. numbers fixed on higher prices levitated, divide domain in to romaine just like a caesar, sells so easy, just add extra oil. somehow the same few customers keep finding a way, fewer and fewer until we change the numbers? and those assets, barely half of what they were, a quarter of what they might have been just now? perhaps the red is a sign? ask the office implements if they have need of paperclip?

then, get ready. there’s M street now, a capitol folly, the spleen of the fake economy, monopoly rules invention praised as heaven-sent? monkeys trained expressly to educate the aides, they did once ask? an excuse for a library stands empty waiting for the United Nations maybe? and miracle of miracle you can do all this for the rock bottom price of a mere, wait for it, millions plus expenses; derp! this would be every year? flush we must be? flush again to get it all.

maybe it’s me, but the stench a gasp too far, least when the gambit’s stolen nuts, salted abroad and fancy, those dates Mano a Mano with them wankers from Levant? demurring factotums, frazzled by the crown, spun around they scurry, lunch flushed down parts of private plastic, totes? tickling her it seems as she exclaims another exit sign.

now alone with peace, happier now her load shorn short, sheer boredom does no work for most. still shake my head on days there is rumor, a whorl of what, maybe national with some graphic? because it’s proved, there never was nor could there ever be such a muddled thought, it’s proof the nil set lives. least not able to function outside of an institution, kinda like a fresh dug grave the dirt clods letting go reaching back to find their depth, will never be forgot, but no one’s going to visit, pretty sure.

now new brand old charter reblown fat redone with pith and love, it’s the Skills Reduction Institute, in memory of  a good old head trained in the real magic, an institution of special note from which no one may escape their skills intact, a happy land for those who hold a doctor’s note, cuz truly that is what it takes travailing dread and treading clear of Red some say a Queen. take another, doctor’s orders, the only question matters is how did she keep going?

red queen

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