Glass Case

I sit behind the crystal clear

grove of heads which swivel, 

spin and whatnot as ball gliders.

I've warranted another year here.

Devilishly sly, peering red from 

shadows of concession. They glare,

stare, point, poke, and everything in-

between. Flick and flash to the 

one who cannot move, willed into

an excruciating stillness as if 

dead at birth.

None of them have found power 

in the "I", which places me in

employment. A position of welfare

made more general than allocated to

a self righteous being. A deity 

amidst theists with a fedora to

cover. Business man's five slams

personality aside for the lighter,

economical leather paired with

warranty. Foreign beasts as any

man to tackle, investigate, or

ponder as an unintentional circus

bleeds into the feeding mind of 

the young at heart.