The Constant Question

(with help from Steve Bennett)


Asked only in hushed tones
Rushed encounters
Counter to common experience
And my theory is…

There’s no word for the crux
Flux
Is the steady state of matter
Tattered sanity keeps fraying
Graying applies to skies and hair
Fair trade seems an illusion when only applied to coffee –

All experiments end
You can only take certain gags so far
Naturally
The constant question arises
Answered only in the asking
The hushed tones
Of the rushed whispers
That soar above the sodden silver sky
Cracking with lightning in every cloud.

End rev2. 24 July 2010, 11.36 a.m. Brooklyn.

© David Mark Speer