Reality Becoming…
by Odin Roark

Forty floors up,
adrift in Hotel Paradise’s Monday Night Special
vacationing with cable’s newest holographic VR fantasy.
He smiles.

One encourages Cindy,
the instant designer servant of sorts,
to rub more scented oil on his chest.

He adjusts his head piece,
boosts the sun’s temperature,
as he slides the credit card for another fifteen minutes,
continuing to lounge atop the warm tropical sands,
driving his tan deeper and deeper.

While below on the streets,
real-time seems to remain the same,
like an incessant drizzle,
leaving streets puddles and darkened.

Cops in their parked cruiser nod off,
giving no mind to rain changing to snow.

Drifts emerge.

Visibility vanishes.

Shadows hold vigil across the street,
ghostly storefronts waiting,
a brick through the window,
a lock picked easily,
another homeless passing out against a door jam,
a liquor store being held up by
punks in ski caps.

All…

Identities in perpetual fear.
for this is just another day
for the privileged high above,
just another indulgent night,
or day,
or week,
or month,
ad infinitum.

While below,
everyone’s reality is becoming…