Archive
05/19/10 - (1)
The Man in the Brown Slacks and White Dress Shirt
I see a man standing on a dock, Not two hundred yards down the shore from here, A man in brown slacks and white dress shirt, Holding a fishing pole.
This much I can see, from my dock, As well as a sliver of moon two o'clock high In the 8:30 night sky's lingering light, Just hovering there, On a collision course with a jet plane, Whose blinking wingtips I follow, Hoping it will deviate, avoid hitting the lunar crescent.
And as I survey this lake's quiet environment, The aircraft's three roaring engines Leave behind contrails weaving themselves into one, Billowing behind the plane's northerly course — Twine unwinding from an endless ball.
Suddenly, my eyes pick up the cries of a loon Echoing across the lake, And I stop looking skyward, to focus my listening.
And it's in this sacred moment That I realize how at peace I am with the entire cosmos, How my spirit has blended it with me.
When I glance, again, down the shore, Two hundred yards or so, The man in the brown slacks and white dress shirt has disappeared, And I find myself questioning whether I'm really still here Or if, instead, I'm somewhere not nearby, Not in the gentle keeping of this lake.
As for the man down the shore from right here, tonight, He's the ghost, apparition, eidolon Tending to my desk, slaving over the work schedule I escaped When I left St. Louis, five days ago, to fly away, On a jet plane headed northerly, toward the moon.
05/19/10 - (1)
|
|||
|
|||
