What Else Can I Do?


Many events occur
while the world spins
on the tip of God’s finger.

Ocean drops fall like tears
depositing themselves on the walls of caves,
winds whistle tunelessly
catching hair in a madcap dance,
and depositing trash into lonely corners.

Plans made by man get lost in the current of life
as they discover that they must paddle twice as hard
to avoid the jagged rocks
on the far side of the precipice.

And we age, and we learn, and we die
sometimes with a smile on our lips
or else with the last kiss we will ever know,
our breath joining the chorus
as we gasp our last gasp into the ether.

My head, even now, thrown back in laughter
Has bought me far more than money thrown forward,
I could press myself down, deeper into the mattress,
or work myself harder than a Chinese seamtress,
or I could laugh myself sick at the folly of it all,
but I’ll never slap my own face as hard as the sea has done
nor will I find forgiveness in a barmaid’s smile.

These things and more could I do,
while the globe spins on its course
oblivious to my wants or needs.
The only place I will find a helping hand
is inside my own sleeve.

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