by Rudolph Tenenbaum
An event in Santa Fe.
The grand opening of a cafe.
The sign of a goose is above.
The manager looks like a bum.
No food. No drink.
They invite us…to think!
We are anxious to make a call.
We are anxious to shop at the mall.
Our printer requires new ink.
But we think we might try to think.
We arrive in a thoughtful mood.
No drink. No food.
Not even a tiny fig.
But our thoughts our big.
We reflect on life and on death,
On the sky’s infinite depth,
And on humans’ eternal strife,
And, of course, on the meaning of life.
We are anxious to make a call.
We are anxious to shop at the mall.
Our printer requires new ink.
But we think we had better think.
To us even building a fence
Will make little sense
Without knowing why
We live and die.
We decide to ignore the fuss.
Of the time remaining to us
We are trying to make good use
While time’s cooking our goose.
