Times Square
madness in miniature
as viewed from the hierarchy
 
face footed fools racing toward their dead....
line...
a mythical place where futility meets denial
 
except Marty...he hated that name
he was Martin and he was aware of that
but the nature of the nurturing injected in him
denied his existence
 
no one  noticed him...easily
grey, his color of force,
blended in well...Mother said so
 
and Doris....Doris
a title relegated to her from the start
she was not a Lover or a friend
just a wife....another woman
he could not escape
 
but escape he did...daily
amidst storefront copings and sales pitches
along the crusted venues of a city
the grey of it all protecting him
 
walking small, never looking down,
he dreamed of levitating one day
to hover down West Forty-Second
and put them in their place
beneath him
 
and on this bored Wednesday
misted over with noxious reminders,
he turned the corner, head up
and saw Her...staring
through him...into him...past him
 
larger than his worst dream,
she saw him when no one else did
"Marty", she whispered..."Marty"
 
"my name is Martin" he declared with no assertion
 
"I've been watching you for a long time, Marty"
"and I'll be here forever"
 
shocked and disturbed, Martin...no, Marty
stood there
and wept a lifetime of humiliation at once
 
tortured with the notion of discovering
the overlord was not as advertised
Orwell had it wrong...
 
Big Sister, was watching
 
again, a woman was controlling his world
and yes, Marty listened

-- Rob Dyer