the glass beside his hand glared down
hard and like water oddly opaque it magnified the words he wrote earlier
(Oct
10 2015) 1961 Wretched of the Earth Frantz Fanon
moving the glass aside he read
the quote above the inscription: He’s a sly-boots, a lazybones,
and a thief, who lives
on nothing, and who understands only violence.
a helluva fortune from out of the
crisp folds of a Chinese fortune cookie
it was two of five
twenty per cent
not shabby
though it did cast a wide net for
such a slender piece of paper
admittedly he was sly-boots
he preferred not showing his hand
or revealing what he thought
he
was a private person coddled his anonymity and bedeviled scratched his head at
those around him who couldnt wait to open their mouths and divulge what they
thought regardless of whether or not they knew what they were talking about to
whoever would listen
or whomever
because
after all
it was only their opinion
and opinions carried no weight of
being either true or false
they had no thought of their privacy
of being surveilled or encroachment
they believed being revealed was
inevitable and shamelessly seemed to want to hurry the process along keeping
everyone on par equally exposed
assholes
it never occurred to them
as with almost everything he
might think of
the massive majority walks in a brilliant light
while an insidious microminority keeps to
the dark unseen manipulative keeping watch of its inherent interests
he readily understood
the second of two the Chinese fortune hit on correctly
Violence
he preferred passivism
he let a lot of things roll off his
broad back
if nicked
or ticked
he was a spasm
a hot whips lash
a boil of lava
in love with the concussion of
fists to skulls the pummeling of abdomens and kidneys
if passivism and reason floundered
on reefs of violence
he was content its shoals were slivered
with smashed ribs and hulls deflowered and broken-lipped figureheads
the sage Chinese
Taoists soothsayers haruspices osteomancers
fortune cookie makers
0816, Day-between-Two-Ts, 22 6.
16
