Parabola 2018 by David Seth Smith

“Pinocchio, Siddhartha, Jesus, and WC Fields
walk into a bus station…”

You have, you suspect,
been useful this year,
in the sense that
a chair is useful
or a cane,
this is at least
what your mind
circles around and
what your rosewood soul whispers to
you with frosted breath
at 20 degrees, walking to
the next bus station
not much warmer inside
which only makes
the savor of sad
comings and goings
that much more piquant
Trailways at 3:00 AM
eyes burnt with fatigue
drifted and dreamt
you were the only one dancing
no strings and
that somewhere
past the resin imprint
of a forehead on the glass
Siddhartha snores along
a separate trajectory
as the blur of light resolves
blue signage and taillights
into indecipherable abstraction
and if life is the journey
you’d rather be in Philadelphia,
Jesus and WC waving goodbye
it’s still a thousand miles
to the coast and Geppetto, who
while useless for explaining the metaphysics behind all this,
is good for humming the generic gita, psalm, parable,
or other form of incorporeal varnish
as you spruce up the veneer for the
next elliptical swing
around the sun

©2018 David Seth Smith

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.