the new enemy

see note for reviewers.

he was looking for a new enemy

for it was the man he hated before

which defined his very being &

in that respect, there was no other

who could possibly take his place---

he searched far and wide, after the last

fight had come to a close---two

young men with all the anger in the world

comparing themselves to two old men

who in giving up on everything had only

each other to hate.

 

with clenched fists he walked in his

black wool trench coat during the frigid

december early afternoons,

keeping his eyes peeled for a target in which

he might shed some of the pent up aggression,

however,

to no avail, his search ended as quickly as it

began & home he went,

frustrated & without the meaning that an

exchange of mutual despise could

bring (as it had so many times before).

 

twiddling his thumbs inside his cavern of

confusion, he wondered just what he would do

if he never did find another adversary?

 

inevitably, after drinking himself into a stupor,

he meandered to the bathroom to relieve

himself, taking a moment to stare into the

mirrored reflection before exiting the room.

 

the young man gaining wrinkles by the day

saw the old man happy still in his ability to

nitpick at such lesser priorities in life,

especially when his friends were dropping like

flies, their bodies filled with all those

wonderful cancers & diseases that come to

you once you’ve carved your little niche out in the

world.

 

he wasn’t envious, but he was jealous of the

meaning that came with disease---he wondered if

he had developed the problems that came with

the lives of others he’d known, if he would

treat himself as the sickness then---for, he

would disappear into the vast mass of

individuals whose lives had been cut short,

whose personalities were now time clocks

all set to a differently specified ending---

one which was already known,

and therefore, much less interesting.

 

on the contrary,

if he was to make the very absence of

sickness his enemy, then he felt he’d catch

himself in a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-

don’t sort of context,

where meaning might arise in whatever

conclusion did come from that mindset---

still, tracing the wrinkles in his face with his

index, he imagined that not even he

could take such a cliché seriously enough to

act on it.

Author's Note

Eli Sunday: Oh, Daniel, please... I'm in desperate times. I need a friend... I feel the walls closing in. I've sinned! I need help! I'm a sinner! I've let the Devil grab hold of me in ways I never imagined! I'm so full of sin.
Plainview: The Lord sometimes challenges us, doesn't he?
Eli Sunday: Oh yes he does! Yes he does! Oh! He's completely failed to alert me to the recent panic in our economy and this! I must have this! I've invested... my investments have... Oh, Daniel, I won't bore you, but I... If I could grab the Lord's hands for help I would, but he does these things all the time, these mysteries that he presents and while we wait, while we wait... wait for his word...
Plainview: You're not the chosen brother, Eli. It was Paul who was chosen. He found me and he told me about your land. You're a fraud.
Eli Sunday: Why are you talking about Paul? Don't say this... don't say this to me, Daniel.
Plainview: I did what your brother couldn't. I broke you and I beat you.

-from the film, There Will Be Blood (2007)