I'm not in the Mood for Your Cant, Sonny Boy

The sage stops by. Everything's as it has been
In his world: transcendent, perfect. Oneness
Prevails. I don't see that in mine. A car has
Crashed into a pole down the street, and my
Power is out. All the things which I count on
To live, my stove, my refrigerator, my air
Conditioning, even my clock and computer,
Have stopped. I've become quite concerned.
The sage says, “Don't worry. Your troubles
Are no more than tiny ripples upon a sea.
Beneath them, everything is calm.” I stare
At him, fuming. A melted ice cream sandwich
Arcs from my hand to his face. My shoe crashes
Down on his sandaled foot, and he howls. I say,
“Leave me. Your world's not mine. In fact,
It's not actually yours.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 46 times
Written on 2021-08-01 at 17:57

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