It was the day the bees aligned
and flew in a single file
like a honey-yellow tightrope.
I walked above them without a net below
and only a plain black umbrella
to assist my balance.
All this provided an imperfect demonstration
of Einstein’s train explanation
of his relativity theory.
And it gets me across the arroyo
which rages with water
from heavy mountain rains.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
I ride the bus.
The number ten bus.
It does not have a bicycle rack.
I wish the bus was metaphorical.
It is as real as my wish for a car.
My cashless wish.
I cannot afford a new car.
I cannot afford a reasonable used car.
I can afford a junker.
It does not matter though.
I cannot afford auto insurance.
So I ride the bus.
Or I ride my bicycle.
Remember, the bus does not have a bicycle rack.
So I cannot combine the two sequentially.
I do combine walking and a bus ride sequentially.
I would like to walk while on the bus.
It would effectively demonstrate Einstein’s relativity theory.
The people I share the bus with do not care about Einstein.
Well, not to the best of my knowledge.
The worst of my knowledge calls everyone an ignorant boob.
And it named all the girls Veronica.
I am sure none of the girls are named Veronica.
Two women on the bus look like university students.
They talk biology and organic chemistry.
They might appreciate Einstein and my demonstration.
And Darwin on the origin of species.
But not Walt Whitman with his Leaves of Grass.
Wait. That was the worst of my knowledge speaking.
It is stupid. It is so stupid it spelled stupid stupide before backspacing.
Really. An evolved person should not call people names.
I guess I am not evolved.
I should read Darwin for Beginners.
I ride the bus, so there is time on the way home.
And the way to work.
Today is one of my two weekly days off.
I am on the way to the zoo.
I will seek Darwin lessons there.
I am sure Einstein demonstrations are there, too.
I bring Whitman along in my head
to recite to the animals.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
postscript
I have never recited poems to the animals at the zoo. I have read poems from poetry books to the trees of woods I like attending. Generally those woods are away enough from populations that it was rare someone heard me reading poems to the trees.
In the 1990s I participated in guerilla poetry readings while I lived in Milwaukee. Usually the city government buildings and the downtown business center. Recite and dash.
Paul sits at the end of a beach.
In your mind do you see him
where the water meets the sand
or where the sand meets the grass?
Or way off to the left where the rocks stand tall?
Or way off to the right by the asphalt parking lot?
I will not be surprised by your answer.
Even if you place the end smack dab in the middle of the beach.
Our perception of the end changes as the fog drifts and rises.
The wandering dog changes our perception of the end as well.
What if Paul sat on the last grains of beach sand remaining?
What if Paul sat at the end of time on a beach?
What if Paul’s dog carried a stick from the other side of the ocean?
What if time is a song with inaudible lyrics?
What if we all inaudibly sing a part in that song?
Prepare to sing inaudibly. Your time is about to begin.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 