Erosion of Feeling

Mad Max was already crazy when he kissed his wife and said,
“I don’t want to have to wait ten years to tell you how I feel.”
At least he was partway crazy, and could sense the rest mislaid,
the crippling that comes with ripping apart, mirroring the word “heal”
and turning it aslant, like a damn mirage. Each step he took
looked headed dead on straight, but somehow ended up bent off track,
over and over again. The straighter he tried to go, crooks
and crooked crawled all over him until even “try” was jack.
Watching the movie, the two guys joke about black humor, laugh
(oh, yeah, you got it straight, they laugh — this flick is far funnier
than they expected). I look at them in my living room, half
confused, then stand and walk to another room, hearing, “Nearer,
My God, to thee” in my mind, shut the door, sitting down, alone,
sorting papers on the table and cradling a cold pink stone.

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2 responses to “Erosion of Feeling

  1. This one reminds me of many times I have been places where people are laughing to avoid dealing with a situation (usually one involving unfair treatment of someone).

    • I just felt like while “Mad Max” is an iconic film, it can from some points of view seem extremely shallow, and to see depths in it requires intentionally looking at motivations, back story, context, etc. Or chalk it up to I just don’t like violence, especially violence for the purpose of entertainment.

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