Futilitrinity

I.

This is the story I tell to myself

when the stars are falling down:

Once there was a little boy,

a goldfish and a clown.

The clown was never happy, the boy was never sad,

the fish swam round and round and round

in the bowl he had.

The clown found love and married, the boy became a man,

the fish swam round and round and round

and knew no better than.

II.

This is the song that I sing to myself

when I’m feeling adrift and alone:

I’m just air and water,

skin and blood and bone.

The future is a pencil box,

the past has all been written,

I sat beneath an apple tree

and found that I’d been bitten,

I’m just heat and oxygen,

a double-helix legion,

a soul that’s buried underneath

a heap of scars and lesions.

III.

This is the wish that I wish when I wish,

which isn’t very often:

I wish I could be strong enough

to let my stiff heart soften.

I wish I had the nickel back

I just threw in this fountain,

I wish for progress in my pain

and purpose in my passion.

****

If these things should all fall short

(and usually they do)

I watch the rain course down the pane

slapdash,

askance,

askew.