The Darker Side of Nuthin'

Time does not rumble and stumble through such places
Instead it glides and flows
Creeps and crawls unabated
Little or no attention given to its experience
Other than the art of arrival and departure
Triggered by mechanisms of standards both authoritarian and courteous
And those happenings are more lost in as much found
In the back of minds busy with priorities elsewhere
Everyone is safe.

In this place where collective coagulations merge and ricochet
Contributions to a process form to perpetuate progress and change
For that is the only true constant
Even when fear attempts to impede
Given time the inevitable conquers most resistance.

Here where water tickles the feet of mountains
Where rain and clouds insure blanketed emotions
Draped in a mist laden fog
Where protestant nose to grindstone work begets distraction
Where distraction begets compliance
Where compliance begets repression
And repression begets oppression.

Here where the mountains spill nutrients downward into the sea
Where cabin fever breeds discontent
Where time for reflection begets inner exploration
Where elevated consciousness begets curiosity
Where curiosity begets examination
Where examination begets questioning
There are few absolutes.

And in the midst of the pushing and pulling of all that is relevant
Sits the Porn Palace
A monument to the potential fringe in everyone
Where perceptions of seclusion and exclusion merge
And denial of curiosity melds with nervous water cooled jokes
Laced with naughty spice, nudges, and winks.

All who pass know all too well
That inside there of the creepy lurking insidious
No orifice goes unattended
No act is unconsidered
No positioning is not attempted
No toy is impossibly negotiated.
No absolute is applied.

Yet no entry is possible
As that part of town was seedy before
And is seedy yet
For The Porn Palace only exists for the pleasure of "those" people
The ones we don't make eye contact with
The ones we don't do business with
The ones we don't invite to dinner
Existences solely allowed by the grace of our tolerance.

We will never venture through those doors
There will only be drive-bys without observable notice
Because if we slither after dark into that evil den
We might just bump into someone we know.