Will this happen? Will this poem predict?
It’s not science, you know. It’s not statistics.
If it’s prophecy, then it’s good and pathetic,
And nothing it says will come to pass. Prophets
Are the worst at extrapolating from the past.
Let’s roll with it. The car will start. The family
Will arrive in parts, as planned, and coalesce.
The trip will commence. The car will crawl
Through the airport’s parking mall. The agents
Of the federal government, working without pay
These days, will wave those through who saved
This date for going through, while those
Who remain, without going through, will wave
Farewell and safe home from behind forbidding gates.
God, this could be anything. This could be
Any family, any trip, any farewell, any day.
No comments:
Post a Comment