Habituation’s Lure

Habituation eased into town long ago,
Thought to be natural,
It was praised as stability.
It was embraced as destiny.

It was…

Procreation ruled the nights,
Delivery rooms the days.
Time passed and like flies to a sugar fix,
Habituation swarmed bank tellers on payday,
Local bars on Friday night,
Churches on Sunday.

Workweek habits continued,
Harassment ‘round the water cooler,
Ass kissing ‘round the bosses,
Entitlement ‘round the calling-in-sick phone.

Then something happened…

Times got rough.

Unemployment rose.

Businesses shut down.

Preachers sought donations elsewhere.

Habituation stumbled out of town.

Dark became the memories of enticements.

Cob webs hung furtively,
Tying unlit lamp post to shattered neon signs,
Side streets to alleyways,
Locked doors to broken windows.

Summer storms passed over
Leaving muddy puddles,
Their rippled reflections
But our gurgling echoes to the moon.

Goodbye waves of regret

Today…

Not far down the road,
A new infestation of impassioned hunters
Polish their duplicitous wings,
Awaiting yet another bounty of captured ignorance
Buying into the inducement
Of both flight and fright,
Believing this,
Believing that,
Unaware that allurement
Is a barb of many disguises.

For…

Just as on a clear night,
Or a dew-covered sunrise,
Wings of arresting abalone color
Will flicker from the webs of
Habituation's seductive lure,
Turning tomorrows entrapment of dreams,
Like the captive wings of flies,
Into one’s future fractured rainbows dangling.

Habituation’s lure is very patient,
Hoping the same-ol’ will vote accordingly,
Even though there’s a new Habituation in town,
Looking to roust the corrupt and bring in some fresh
Young idealists with respect for humanity’s purpose.

Let us hope they too don’t become corrupt.