play it again

life: a repetition of errors,
the imposition of mirrors
and other second generation
images, second hand news,
the stock phrases spoken
and mechanical responses
like analog tape loops,
the carefully timed rituals,
the daily swim, laps taken
around the fish bowl,
radio playlists and
grocery shopping lists,
the scheduled meals--
meatloaf again? and
more spam in the inbox,
junk food and junk mail.

the assembly line
of sights and sounds,
the laugh tracks and
cartoon backgrounds
that never change,
the predictable mood swings,
the treadmill handed down
from Uncle Sisyphus,
the sage advice always heard
but never followed,
the faucet ever dripping,
the rows of glaring yellow
fluorescent lights, unblinking.

jaded eyes glazing over
with the boredom of routine,
our poker faces
twisted into grimaces
with the pain
of redundancy,
always aching,
so disappointed
by the sunflowers
that fail to spring up
from the cardboard scenery,
while brain-sucking
elevator music plays
over and over and over.

so, please tell me,
tell me again--
why are we here?

© by Jack T. Marlowe