Tag: absurd

Those Tennis Ball Eyes

I think sticking a shinbone
into the belly of a live lemur
just happens to be one of the cruelest acts
a person can commit. Sure,

there are plenty of crimes
against humanity that could be
considered as somewhat more intense,
but lemurs are primates too. I think

crimes against animals are worse anyway,
because animals don’t know
what any of our justice system means.
If someone is tried for that heinous act,

do you think the lemur knows? No,
of course not. Even if you told
the lemur that you’d bring it closure,
it would just stare up at you with those
tennis ball eyes, unaware of the social context
(or indeed the language you speak).

The Apocalypso Festival

Put it all away,
and what you end up having
is a sign of the impending apocalypse.

But you know what? It doesn’t
have to be all that bad if you’ve
prepared for it in some shape or form.

You could think about it in terms
of the novelty that one might associate
with such a fantastic set of circumstances,
giving it a kind of a game-type theme.

Maybe The Apocalypso Festival,
where we spin the end of times
into a fun night of rum drinks
and steel drum music. Those zombies

won’t know what the hell is going on
(not that they ever know anyway), and you’ll
have the satisfaction of knowing

that you did everything you possibly could
to ensure that the rest of your existence
on this planet is at least somewhat enjoyable.

Interminable Waiting Room

You can bet on a downpour of rain in our interminable waiting room this afternoon.

It’s been sunny for seven straight days here, and my elbow never acts up like this when good weather is on the horizon (if we could indeed see the horizon from here). Cover up the magazines, we don’t want those National Geographics to lose their sheen after so many years of being in near-mint condition.

Three Throws Over

So I’m standing over on first base after taking my base on balls, and the pitcher just keeps eyeballing me from the mound. He’s looking over at the leadoff I’m taking for at least fifteen seconds before the umpire has to call time and remind the pitcher that the man on first base is not supposed to get into his head. But it’s too late, the pitcher is already coming up with ways to have me picked off, and I can see the thoughts swirling around up there. He makes three throws over, each one getting closer to nabbing me. Of course, the pitcher doesn’t know that I’ve been designing this scenario to make him think that I’m taking too many liberties.

Next thing I know, a snake comes out from the first base dugout and slithers right over to me. All it does is hiss and make its way to the pitcher, who steps on it, picks it up, calls time, and tosses it over to the dugout. Nobody knows where the snake came from or how it got onto the field without being detected, but I don’t really care so much. Just before the next pitch, I take off for second and steal it neatly.

Designed to Pop

There’s a spring down under the tunnel
made of some metal alloy, designed
to pop under pressure and relieve
the night watchmen of their duties
until the engineers arrive
to reset the whole apparatus.

The purpose of the spring
is not to alert anyone
of imminent danger, but to serve
as an easy way to perpetuate
government contracts, providing easy work
to whomever is lucky enough

to have a brother at the DMV or a sister
on a postal route. Any person with
a connection to city hall in one small way
or another will have job security
for the rest of their life, thanks to
these perpetually-popping springs,
and isn’t that just fantastic?

Swirling in Puddles

If it doesn’t matter much,
we can throw our crusts
into the rain and watch them
get soggy right by the dog
whose house doesn’t have a roof.

Come to think of it, the dog
will try to eat those crusts
before too long, but they’ll fall apart
once they touch his teeth,
slopping on the grass and
swirling in puddles at his feet.

If the dog could talk, he would
probably say how he hasn’t eaten
since dinnertime, and an intact snack
would have been nice right there,
but he understands that life
sometimes doesn’t offer easy rewards.

Salt Spray and Low-Hanging Fruit

Don’t sever all ties
with the teeter totter land
we used to call home,
we may need to return
at some point and beg
to have our jobs back.

Just tell them we’re going
out for a weekend fishing trip.
We’ll actually go fishing at first,
since I know how much you hate to lie,
but after we catch a couple bass
we’ll take off for the tropical climes

where breezes constantly waft
through the air and our hair,
transporting aromas of salt spray
and low-hanging fruit. You can
get to work on that novel
you’ve always said you’re too busy for.

Wouldn’t that be nice? I’ll make sure
we pack enough pens and paper.
Just for God’s sake, make sure
to keep the supplies where the water
can’t get at them, or we’ll have to
double back and risk being caught.