Amongst Us   They’re right here amongst us, you know — so don’t pretend that they’re not. They look like us. They attend events — weddings, rodeos. They won’t give up a tell — so don’t even try. They make middling mountains out of middling molehills, and then they act a bit fetutzed. They take lessons — flying, yoga, golf. Their poll numbers are average. They recycle. They render unto Caesar, or at least seem to. They plant flowers, red ones. They bathe — they make like they’re bathing. They’re praised for their teamwork. They disappear, sometimes for years. They go to strip clubs, little kids’ birthday parties, grand openings, opium dens, malls. They bask in glory — until they don’t. They start fights, start fires, start fund-drives. They perspire. They pass, they’ll have what you’re having. They sit there in restaurants, like nothing’s wrong. They wait, they watch, bide their time. They seem to fit right in — it hardly matters what they say.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont July 2013