It used to be:
What's your sign?
Can I get you a drink?
Do you come here often?
Now things have become so much more treacherous:
Red or blue
Pro or con
Woke or sleeping
Small talk has fallen to the wayside in this dark age of enlightenment.
In the search for tolerance, we have become intolerant.
We chew up bites of information to be swallowed by headlines.
I ache for the ship to be righted and the tides to subside.
The constant swings have made me seasick.
Yet, the forecast doesn't seem to want to lighten up and there is no safe harbor in sight.
So here I float on the open sea
tied to the mast
A vain attempt to avoid the siren song.
Choppy water flows
All around me, pulling me
Below the dark waves.