The Truth About Tigers

Attention auctioned to the current highest bidder—
news, politics, entertainment.
We gladly pay in time,
anything to escape the discomfort
of simply being.

Left with ourselves,
we sprint to shiny objects,
shoveling over our dwindling supply
of nows
for sweet distraction.

Allegiance split, pulled,
grasping for what comes next.
The gavel falls,
but nothing is settled,
nothing ever is.

Always seeking,
as if meaning
could be won
in a crowded room
where every voice
demands the final word.

Written in response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #380: This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 78 words using the word “Auction”.