She looks at you with disdain
then scratches her arm as if to say
you\'re nothing but a mosquito.
And then the dog comes
following her
like she\'s the Queen of Sheba
on her way to her coronation.
I take the shoe off
fiddle with my sock
and sure enough
there\'s that little pebble
looks like it chipped off from the side of a tombstone.
Hard as granite with sharp edges
stained with the blood of an old foot
that\'s stuffed into a beat-up old Oxford
that lawyers used to wear to court
but now just a cast-off
soleless article purchased at the Goodwill store.
Think I\'ll take the stone back home
and throw it in the fish tank
along with the plastic diver and the skull.
Should have stayed home.
Home where the wine bottles wait
and the computer mocks
and the cat curls up on the windowsill
staring out at the rain
like he\'s waiting for Godot
or maybe just another hot day.
I light my pipe and
watch the smoke curl and dance
wonder if it’s all worth it
this stumbling through life
collecting stones in my shoes
and dreams in my head
and regrets in my heart.
The blonde’s gone now
probably didn’t even notice me
or the way I limped off that bench
stone in hand
and the dog
he’s off sniffing some other corner of the world
living in a way I can’t quite understand.
I sit at my desk and stare at screen
the words don’t come
not tonight
not with the stone sitting in the fish tank
mocking me like everything else in this distorted world.
Living is like walking
on a hot sidewalk
with gravel in your shoes
sometimes you don’t know how that damned little stone got there
but you keep walking
because what else is there to do?
© Richard Gordon Zyne