Crazy quilt of junk and fettered dreams
For sale, cheap- To those skilled in bravado and haggling
If you speak the Language of the Forgotten
A bounty of Fool’s Gold, treasures to be uncovered
Social etiquette mimed in poor fashion
Hallow movements belie their true beliefs,
Needs of survival break all bounds of proper convention:
The lowest of the heap of humanity
The Heart of the Market, last vestige of social binding
Away from the Fear, thick within the Mainstream
Sharp, quick and seasoned venders
Equal Opportunity: Who ever sells the most, the fastest, wins
Move away from the Heart,
Down the long tangled limbs of alley-paths
The line of propriety blurs, natural winding ways surface
Deadman’s Zone: the shadow between traditional legality and primal chaos
Hasty, make-shift stalls; Desperation is the currency
Scavengers, homeless, ignorant and immigrants
The Forgotten’s come to barter their wares
The narrow ends of these tangled limbs
Burst into the Ocean of the Underworld
Ménage of Men: heads, arms, fingers, feet
No stalls, no paths, living on the fluid moment of NOW
Primal Instinct is the only rule here: Language of the body
Mano-a-Mano, the fast buck of young men hustling
Their future a foggy haze across their eyes
Just one more... a vicious cycle, drowning poverty
Scent of Urgency is choking
You do not want to know where these items come from
Thieves, liars, illegals, drug addicts
Winding through the outer brink of the seamy underground
The threat of the loud, hot, writhing mass of Men swarming around me
Sudden, overwhelming desire to be covered from head to toe
Away from the prying eyes, objectifying my sex
Anonymity: I begin to understand the sanctuary, the freedom of the Veil
Tradition. Freedom.
In the eyes of the beholder; context of a culture
Sold! to the highest bidder, country or man
The cocoon of innocence ripped away, left naked and startled in the center light
As with all women around the world, the only freedom we truly desire
The single distinction between Humans and Animals,
Choice.