A fool

On the edge of a river
there are two people
who sit on one spot
each claims
their hegemony
over the definition of the dark
that now pushes into the room
filled with the sound
of a piano
and a fan

Cooly one begins to act silently
while the other punches out notes
as if they were steel disks
created on a multi-ton press

Each pretends the other will
give up
both are wrong
when the real king
dances into the room
with cap and bells
wine spouts
from his forehead

Ay matey he screams
like some by-gone pirate whale
everyone bursts into laughter
from the place
where one finally decides
that what is done
is worthless

And so
they all go to bed
to pull the covers
up to his chin

(mp3 file of Barry G. Wick reading this poem)

Copyright (c) 2010 by Barry G. Wick