postcards from the middle in poetry

when in a Wal-Mart hellscape
you see all the terrible people
and you judge them all for their choices
and guffaw and feel so goddamned superior
realize in that moment
even if it’s for a different reason
you are one of them too
and that’s horrible

desperation or laziness
thoughtlessness or irony
you’re in the same place
and there’s someone else
thinking the same things of you

context is only
so much of an excuse
no one is worthy of all that abuse
at least not from an ironic distance
at least not without exploring their existence

they might actually be
the redneck asshole you think they are
you might actually be
the detached hipster they think you are
or maybe not too
who knows?

maybe no one can know anyone
or even themselves
there in the vast desert
of discounted bulk Cheez-Its
under a bank of ten thousand
sick fluorescent green suns

context is an excuse
but only to a point
observation is important
but it doesn’t mean you can avoid
being a fellow human
trying to be humane
there’s a difference between distance
and disgusting smug disdain
don’t hate the players
hate the game

don’t judge the victims
judge the Wal-Mart
and its corporate puppeteers
who’ve forfeited their humanity
down through the years
judge them harshly

but take it easy on the customers
they’re the same as you
there but for the grace
of an absent indifferent God
amid the mullets and the Tweety Bird shirts
mocked by the hypocrisy
of the Bibles flags and rictus smiley faces

when in a Wal-Mart hellscape
and see all the terrible people
realize they’re not terrible people
they’re just people in a terrible place
the same human soul
with a slightly different face
they’re you

know who the real enemy is