Ordinary Trauma

I'll take nothing from those who've been therein foxholes and firefights up to their elbows in blood their ears filled with screams but after these lives where we're beaten by bigger, older boys ridiculed by teachers shouted at by bosses after the cacophony of machine shops and construction sites the jackhammers the nail guns the yellow beasts that strip the soil even the more serene workplaces have their bells and buzzers a million notifications a day bony little fingers that prod us toward greater efficiency as we labor under looming robot shadows and insomniac camera eyeballs we are goldfish in a tank surrounded by mad children tapping at the glass back at home the neighbors slam doors punch holes in the walls scream at each other every Saturday night