Mania

My time machine shudders to a stop,

and I step outside,

blinded by daylight,

and things look much as they did

before I left,

so I wonder

for a moment,

did it even work?

Then I hear a terrible,

thrilling sound,

a crowd running towards me,

surrounding me in seconds,

screaming,

howling,

crying.

Desperate grabbing hands,

lunging towards their prey,

knocking me to the hard pavement,

stepping over and onto my body,

curled into the fetal position.

Then someone,

a young girl,

helps to pull me up,

and I stare for a moment

into her wild widened eyes,

tear-stained, flushed cheeks.

She just looks at me

and starts shrieking again with the others,

pulls away from me,

and runs again with the crowd.

I sit for a moment on the curb

after they pass,

overwhelmed,

exhausted,

my knees skinned.

I pick gravel out of the palms of my hands.

They press forward,

then surround a black car

that has stopped in the middle of the street.

The wailing intensifies.

Some of them climb on top of the car;

some try to strip the vehicle where it stands.

I wonder what the occupants inside are thinking.

From the shrill din,

I can hear cries of “John! John!”

And “I love you, Paul!”

Police officers appear,

try to press back the crowd,

as a young man 

in a black suit

emerges from the car

with a grin and a wave.

Camera flashes popping,

the crowd swelling

like an unstoppable tidal wave,

the howls turn into a roar.

A girl faints from within the mob,

and a brave officer

wades among them

to carry her limp body away.