what time is it
fiction
edward w pritchard
Here where I stay there is the party going on but we can't find it anymore. Something about a very fine building with cascading decks and new never driven cars and long term contracts and enjoyable music but we can't hear the music, we can't find the party, and the new car is very old and needs expensive stuff from the auto zone pretty much everyday anymore.
No one I know is at the party. At the party are the people from television, the movies, the internet social clubs, the one's who take long expensive trips, have extra new cars parked about and who are always courted by the banking and financial industries about their retirement. The people at the party spend a lot of time thinking about long term phone/data contracts, all kinds of insurance stuff, medical problems and prescriptions, tables and tables of restaurant food, and minute to minute changes in the President's opinions about the first hundred days.
The music has stopped, I can't find the party anymore and the contract we signed has expired. What happens next?
No comments:
Post a Comment