Saturday, October 24, 2015

283.365 - I almost never write a fable

let us suppose a motorcyclist rides
from Seattle to Washington, D.C.
no, let us suppose he rides the first stretch of that
between Spokane and Milwaukee, say
and let us suppose that he stops in little towns, not in cities
or what passes for cities along those highways
and let us suppose that everywhere he stops to sleep
a day or so later a miracle happens
a woman wakes up cured of stage four cancer
a child discards leukemia as if he'd never had it
a corporation decides to give back land
it stole from family farmers
a politician puts together a coalition
whose laws benefit just us citizens
no one of course makes any connection
least of all the motorcyclist
who rides into Milwaukee and spends three days
visiting the Harley shrines before he sets off
to see the capital
so in Milwaukee the pavement heals and smooths
hospitals wonder at their cure rates
and at the new beds unfilled
and asthma vanishes from things people complain about
but nothing like that happens in Washington
whatever followed him across the country
couldn't enter the capital
whatever goes on there is too strong
even for miracles
now let us suppose for kindness' sake
the motorcyclist safely gets his fill of history in a week
and safely makes it back to the northwest
watches the sunset over the Pacific
and never ever dreamed what followed him to but not into
whatever goes on in the capital
now, I suppose we could just change our minds
but let's don't, it's a good fable as it is

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