Apartment 415 - Mirror, Mirror

You can identify your own flaws by scrutinizing strangers...

I watched a woman
      from across a platform
at the subway station...

Straightened dishwater-blonde hair
glimmering in the subterranean fluorescence;
          striking posture,
      a dancer's figure,
and a thrifty ensemble that bespoke good taste
in spite of budgetary constrictions.

She extricated a circular compact from her purse
the way people in films exhume a pack of cigarettes...
    Then, in a very deliberate fashion,
she removed a pill and swallowed it.

              Birth control is like receiving a governor's pardon
          in the process of planning a crime.
              I resent this woman for that kind of indemnity.

I don't even know her.

Strange, how the mind can pass judgment

on assumptions of character.

It's easy to feel high
on the blissful soapbox of bigotry;

As that pill crested the ridges of her teeth
and met the soft tissue of her tongue, then esophagus,
my mind conjured a phantasmagoria of lewd images
on the surrounding subway walls.

          Sadly,

that's more of a reflection of my character

              than hers.

Apartment 311- To the Victor go the Spoils

A surging flood of panic, riding a wave of adrenaline

like a jockey clinging to a thoroughbred,
crashes through my veins at the sight:

She stopped breathing.

The steady undulation of her breast ended as abruptly
as plans for peaceable disarmament in a middle-eastern conflict.

It's ironic that her attempt

at liberation from daily trepidation
might have freed her from this mortal coil...

She stopped breathing.

That does not mean you should do the same.

You can view human beings as machinery.
A million intricate functions operating conjunctively
towards a singular purpose: to exist.
Life sustaining life for life's sake.

She was breathing to facilitate the circulation of oxygen
through her bloodstream and to vent carbon dioxide.
Oxygen is required to allow cells to produce energy
via cellular respiration.
Carbon dioxide is produced by passive diffusion of gases and,
due to it's toxicity,
must be removed from the body by exhalation.

However,
she stopped breathing.

You can desensitize yourself with logic.
That's not a human being lying prone on my carpet.
It's a malfunctioning machine.
It's a piece of equipment
that you don't own
that has ceased to function in any productive way.
It simply has to be removed,
and it ceases to be your concern.

The machine was supplementing its biochemistry
with external chemicals (see also:
Opium
Cannabis
Lysergic acid diethylamide)
leading to irregularities in its primary functions
and ultimately an abrupt cessation of its prime directive.

She simply stopped breathing.

This is nothing to become emotional over.
It's a fact of function.

Thousands of people die daily
for myriad reasons.

This is simply the final stage in a process labeled existence.
The sentimentality is a bi-product.

Existence is a label attached by certain machines
attempting to convince themselves

of a greater significance to their functionality.

You can divorce yourself from emotion
by disconnecting from labels

that would otherwise cause confusion.

Think of it this way-

Your lover is not dead on your floor;
instead, insist that your toaster is broken,
your microwave is on the fritz
or your washer/dryer unit burned out.

Perhaps it's time to purchase a new one.