This morning I heard a woman
Ask a question and gave my reply
From afar. Then I heard a man inquire
How her play was faring (yes, he used that word).
Later I heard a creature snarl his way
Up a subway staircase deaf to shouts for civility
And walked along the path the rain permitted,
Not once maledicting it with oaths from my average mind.
Tonight a woman on the far side of eternity
Will read her poems with a laughing lisp.
A cuckoo clock she keeps beside her bed
And a net above her head to collect
All utterances from the heavens sent.
A voice from my past, surely my mother,
Has ordered my appearance,
Saying it is the dharmic thing to do.What am I to say in the face of such influences?
What? I merely ask.December 2004
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