The Passing

Im dunklen, dunklen Wald - In the dark, dark Forest 30 x 24 cm

THE PASSING

Significant

others fall away like chaff,

like confetti

in a party’s aftermath.

Always have. Maybe you miss

the ambiguity of their smiles, the pinpoint accuracy

of their charm. Or maybe not. Nonetheless 

it does seem unjust that we have to 

bite the dust, cash in our chips, or

as the Germans put it, lay down the spoon, just

one more ego, fat with fantasy, consigned to the void.

Some wish that instead of kicking they could just go away   

for a while then return to their lives refreshed, even enhanced,

as after a few weeks in a Tibetan monastery, or

a single night in some plush bordello of the Belle Epoch.

Think of the expense. A  crowd gathering  

itself together like the remnants

of a lost tribe, clamoring for food and drink.

All of that attention gone to waste.

A stranger in Birkenstocks reading from

the HOLY BIBLE—is there any other kind? Evidently he

prefereth the King James Version. Still, the exit is plainly marked.

 Nina Simone - My baby just cares for me