Behind the Scenes

1990
I was four and the world shook
from the feet of faeries and dragons
and angels and demons
and who can say what else
that tread outside car windows
and behind walls,
always hidden or too fast for my wandering eyes.
In the car I imagined the men behind the scenes
tearing down the old and building the new
to keep up the illusion
that we were moving.

2010
The bankers bailed and took my money,
I'm told,
by pictures of plastic hair on plastic faces.
“They're the reason you have no car,”
they say,
“and why your wallet growls at your ramen
so it can be full again too.”
I don't know if that's the case,
and while there may be creeping
behind your walls and outside your windows,
it's nothing more mystical than men.
The illusion is gone.
The men behind the scenes may still be working
but they're not building the new
and we're not moving.