Yesterday, I felt like

Alfred Hitchcock

going up

and down

those elevators

bored

by

reality

and the people

picked up

and brought to hell, plugged-in

behind their desks

—a slow ride

down

with the worst kind of music.

Hitch would get on an elevator

and talk to his co-conspirators…

“Have you ever seen so much blood?” He asked. “The body was twisted and mangled

at the bottom of the stairs.”

Then Cock would get off

and smile to himself

while the suits hung,

holding their breath

in anticipation,

strangling on his suspense.

The immense satisfaction

of auto-erotic asphyxiation

influencing their emotions

contorting

the crowd, with suggestion.

I was trapped in a training, yesterday

while the mayor spoke about public safety.

He talked about drills

and school shooters

like he had all the answers

while the teachers raised their hands like little kids

“How do I know when it’s safe to run or to hide?” One asked.

“Listen for gunshots. If you don’t hear any, hide.”

“What if my kids run because their parents told them to?”

“Make sure they listen to you,” the mayor said.

The answers kept coming…

I raised my hand like a man

“Yes?” The mayor asked.

“What if a shooter pulls the fire alarm and the students and staff line-up in neat little rows

on the field…

and then, he opens fire?”

A gasp of horror

filled the room.

I had killed their false sense of security.

The mayor’s mouth fell open—

Then, he got angry.

“We can worry about any scenario, or we can put it out of our minds,” he said.

The room breathed again.

“This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often.”

His response was more terrifying

than what I said.