Coffee Rhetoric: Résurrection

November 06, 2007


Picture a moment in space and time where you've become trapped in a stifling box. You suddenly become stagnant and lose your place in the rat race, because you've dropped out. Not willingly. Not without lack of trying to reach the finish line, but from fatigue. You veer off to the side, lungs exhausted, holding your sore sides trying to catch your second wind. You've made your way over to a nearby bench to settle. You settle out of mere necessity and survival and no other reason. Your discontentment breeds resentment, because while you've settled in order to survive, you still find yourself hanging on by the tips of your fingers. You're hanging from a cement ledge, decorated with pigeon droppings (some old and crusted over, some freshly dropped), your feet wildly kicking... a desperate attempt to gain leverage and hoist yourself up. But alas to no avail. You basically just give up and decide to meet the asphalt's acquaintance. Just before you decide to let go, someone stomps on your fingers with a lethal pair of oxfords, forcing your throbbing fingers to slip. You fall. arms flailing wildly in the wind. On your way down you glimpse a blur of faces, watching you fall to your death. You hit the ground. Lying flat on your back. You're stunned. You can't move. First your eyes focus on hulking human forms staring at you from where you've fallen. Smug in the grandeur of their positions. At first you can't move. You lay there... looking up at a sea of genuinely concerned faces staring o'er your crumpled body. Sore and possibly broken, you somehow manage to hoist yourself up. Testing your right arm first. You slowly lift it in the air, grimacing from the pain and effort. Stiff, straight you make a fist with your hand. Slowly but surely, you're able to lift your middle finger in a grand gesture of triumph. You aren't defeated nor are you paralyzed. Your joints seem to work fine. More importantly you've managed to survive the fall. Finger in the air, you watch the hulking silhouettes retreat back inside and away from your moxie. Chagrined. It make take brief period to recover from your fall, but you're still triumphant... because you survived it.
Just saying. Imagine that scenario. That's it.