do you question, as I do
the time suffered painfully through
the churning of a constant true
and breaking wireless of a sort?
are you happy to report
the second coming last resort?
or would you rather just retort
within your stage and clamoring few?
a docile servant becomes you
adept at nothing, talent-proof
all hate raised to those who blew
the deflating bubble that surrounds you
all that’s matter, matters not then
what succeeds won’t be forgotten
Copyright L.M. 2007. (in a series of many written around the same time a couple months ago).
Later the same day of the asparagus man encounter, I went into a little shop because I had never been before. There was a little boy and his mom behind the counter generally occupying themselves with papers and toys. As I was passing them on my way out of the store, I heard the little boy ask:
“Mom, why is the ground moving?”
I think the funniest part was that I looked at the mother, who was nonchalantly answering his question (too quietly for me to hear), and her expression was completely unaffected, as if this was a normal type of question to be asked of a child standing on solid ground…..
it’s time to jump
cross this two-tined road
underlined with ridicule
segregated to different fields
it must be hard
to question eternally
to suffer so deeply
the scars of a thousand words
a thousand wounds
instead, you meander
o’er for a gander
and with one fowl motion
recommence all commotion
Copyright L.M. 2007. (Why did the chicken cross the road?)