Mystical Garbage
Believing garbage cans are scandalous
When battered, making us seem declassé,
My wife delivered firm commands, and thus,
I threw away a garbage can today.
And then a thrilling thought occurred to me:
A garbage can dispatched in garbage cans!
This seemed to me an awesome mystery —
A paradox of great significance.
So now I thought of wash cloths washed, the caps
Of bottled glue that still could be removed, The vanishing, when people stood, of laps,
And “perfect” products makers then “improved.”
I next advanced to sounds of one hand clapping,
Heard Alan Watts, saw navels contemplated,
Saw gurus in a trance, not merely napping,
Saw Yin and Yang, and Huxley opiated.
I told my wife these thoughts; she merely sneered —
The can, she said, demanded termination.
She saw, you see, a can, not what appeared
To me an object made for meditation.
(1998)
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