bare-bones

intermission at the opera: Timepiece

—the lights flicker on and the crowd disperses
you stand and stretch out your stiff arms and sore legs like pulling taffy
these seats were not made for your comfort
you seek out a snack from the concession stand
manned by a man with golden scarab eyes
his body stuffed into a wrinkled silk suit
as green as mucus

he stares at your hands with immense fascination
your thumb begins to itch and burn
as if little legs are scurrying across your knuckle and little mouths are biting bits of you off
flinching back, you abandon the popcorn and return to your seat
reality and time feeling ever so slightly off kilter

hesitantly kicking back
you wait

somewhere in the distance, you can hear a soft piano and weeping violins
behind the crushed velvet curtains perhaps?
a choir sings the words to a song never sung before

and they cry

Society is a machine
Man-made and barely running
Mankind is a beast
Who crafted herself a timepiece
And now she's always running

* * *

You could say that i'm a cog and you're a factory operator

-RB