Sorry, Miss Cleo

August 28, 2013

A pair of black high heels,
pumps I guess,
approached me as I was
kneeling,
shelving books
They were attractive shoes
Neat, feminine, direct
They moved intentionally,
with resolve

They were just about the most
perfect shoes I can recall

Attached to the shoes was
a pair of legs that
were OK
and attached to those
was a person

"You have any Tarot cards?"

Now it's hard to tell, sometimes,
when someone asks for Tarot cards,
whether they're serious or not
Maybe they just got a kick out of
those bogus late-night infomercials

"Yeah, right over here.  In metaphysics."

"Metaphysics?  Hmmm.  OK, good, I see them."

Maybe they're a little curious, or
a little lost,
and are just looking for
something
to give a little direction
or simply for something
to be new...

"Do you have any that haven't been opened?
Anything sealed?"

"Nah, loooks like these are all used.  Look to be
in good shape though."

"Oh it's not the
condition
I'm worried about, if you catch my drift."

"Sorry?"

"Sometimes someone
will stick a 
curse
onto the cards,
and I don't want to have to 
deal with all of that."

...or maybe they're already
knee-deep in
crazy.

"Sorry, doesn't look like it.  Check Barnes & Noble."

I returned to book-shelving,
then watched those
high heels
clack-clack-clack out the door,

stuck with their own curse,

dealing with all of that.
 
 

Brick and Mortar

December 7, 2011

I’m building a library and
Filling the shelves with life
Spines straight and erect like
Small forests

Everyone’s trying to tear them down
Everyone’s got a bulldozer now
Electric saw, electric plow
Raze the wood to paper to ground

Everything ends up buried with time
The great dinosaurs, champions of Earth
Ancient cities with dreams and intentions
And imitations of themselves

Everything ends up buried
And the truth doesn’t always come out
Because something else comes
And it moves too fast to stop it
So now it’s the new truth

Anyway, I’m building this library
My own analog fortress

Most fortresses wind up underground, too
But that’s okay, because I’ll be long gone by then
Besides, the ones that manage to last
Just dilute into novelties for tourism
Relics to remark on for their quaintness

No, this forest will die with me
For if it can’t be a noble creator of oxygen
At least it can feed the lowly worms

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