Someone Really Should …
May 7 2009


I watched the grease-stained wrappers
swirl, scatter
across the fast-food parking lot.
Someone should do something about that, I thought,
and kept-on walking.

I watched the long black Cadillac
double-park;
scofflaws, who stop then start
on red.
Someone should do something about that, I scolded sharply
shaking my head.

I watch
as grizzled weathered men
sleeping over hot air vents
accost up-standing citizens
for change.
Someone should at least complain
I thought,
but never said a thing.

I slump, half-asleep
in front of TV
watching,
when I hear a woman screaming
somewhere outside.
I press close to the glass
peering out into bottomless blackness
— like when the cable goes out
and the screen is impenetrable static.
I listen for sirens,
but now there is only silence.

Which is when I step back
pull down the blinds
and turn the volume higher.



We've all heard, said, and thought this countless times: "someone really should do something about that ...". I was listening to a radio interview, and the subject was environmentalism; and, what else, these exact words were said.

(In particular, the subject was state of the oceans; and even more specifically, the unconscionable hunting of dolphins by the Japanese (not to mention that a dead dolphin is so full of contaminants its body might as well be a toxic waste dump.) And in this case, the interviewee did, in fact, do something -- he made an apparently moving and brilliant film (called The Cove, if you're interested). But I digress.)

I thought this would be much more effective if it was about small things (rather than the death of the oceans!); things we can relate to from everyday life. I tried to construct it so that there is a gradual escalation in the severity of the transgression. (In the 3rd stanza, I'm not sure just what he feels someone should complain about -- that we allow homelessness and scandalous disparities of wealth in a society as prosperous as ours; or that we permit panhandling by people who make us feel uncomfortable! I left this intentionally ambiguous, probably because we all have the virtuous thought, but we also all still find ourselves feeling uncomfortable nevertheless.) And the first person observer is just that: a passive observer. He watches. He distances himself. He is behind glass. The world plays out on a screen. The virtual world and the real world eventually become indistinguishable.

This example of apathy reminds me of the famous poem by Martin Neimoller, about the rise of the Nazis and the moral hazard of silence. Here it is:

When the Nazis came for the communists, I remained silent; I was not a communist.
Then they locked up the social democrats, I remained silent; I was not a social democrat.
Then they came for the trade unionists, I did not speak out; I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, I did not speak out; I was not a Jew.
When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me.


(I've been re-visiting some recent pieces, and realized that "Someone Really Should" and "Physics -- for the Practical Man" are really the same poem: about detachment, apathy, the paralysis caused by feelings of helplessness and futility. Hmmm, a disturbing theme; which probably says way more about me than I'd probably like said!)