The Crew of Expendables

Hail the captains and their crew of expendables, haughtily sailing the slow seas south toward Mexico where cargo waits to be unloaded and tequila waits to be drunk. The bright sun glimmers on the waving waters over which pristine seagulls glide, crying their lonely cries. The crew of expendables silently work and are ignored by the dutiful captains who diligently discuss the business at hand.

The clouds hug the harmless horizon, afraid to let go and be transported back up to their boring blue homes. The crew of expendables grasp the helm in similar manner. For they are like the horizon’s clouds, searching for newness in places where none is likely to be found. The lofty clouds explore the forbidden earth; the land loving crew explores the mysterious seas. Not so the captains, who are wise enough to recognize that newness is merely a trick of the underdeveloped mind.

The crew of expendables live in either the future or the past, but never, never the present. The present they fear because of its impulsive immediacy. The present is for the trilingual captains to face and interpret. For them, the present is like a condemned building, unsightly and unlivable, that will malevolently collapse upon the brink of entry.