while you were gone...
squadrons of folding chairs marching to battle on legs of steel...
to meet grandfather clocks standing firm with stern, questioning faces.
doors open to suggestion,
with ageless queries of their own...
are they a door or ajar?
windows and mirrors debate amongst themselves...
physically alike yet
different.
the windows, their thoughts so readily on display, so easy to see through,
the mirrors refusing to disclose anything, only reflecting back ones own view
a threadbare carpet of dwindling self-esteem laments the sorrows of
allowing everyone to walk all over him...
the answering machine emits a computerized giggle
as it fiendishly decides
which messages to let you hear.
the ceiling, always high and mighty has no patience
for the quibbling and
tries to remain above it all.
walls closing in, overly possessive as they attempt to completely surround us
and exclude all others
water arguing with fire over their general significance in the scheme of
things...
without me, the water exclaims, thirst would go unquenched, and i can be
used to clean and cool.
fire negates the argument stating without me,
food would go uncooked, and
there would be no heat
the air swoops down to join the battle reminding them that neither would
exist without the life it breathes into them.
the ground shakes briefly as the earth chuckles at the lot of them...
reminding all of the necessary foundation it supplies.
i walk up the drive and seem to hear arguing voices,
i insert the key into the lock and swing open the door
all is silent..
except for the ticking of the clock....
an occasional drip from the faucet....
yet, i stand at the door for a moment,
feeling as if i have missed something
wondering just what goes on when i am gone.
Rob Pierce
08-01-99
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