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Sunday Morning Argument Dan Albergotti
Given the sound of the hallway clock's gears. Given the sound of tires on segmented road. Given the bland order of the morning. Given the man who seems to be too old for his body walking the sidewalk. Given his swaying in a tattered blue suit, holding out a vaguely proffered hand. Given the ragged, deranged woman who wanders daily along the highway. Given her resting on the curb among her bags and boxes as if pushed down by God's rough thumb. Given the spotted mutt testing the pavement with a rangy paw, trying to find a moment to cross among the traffic. Given the deep green hillside on which black cows lumber and then graze and then lumber. Given the water that evaporates and gathers in the necessary air. Given the thick gray sky. Given the two vultures circling above a Carthaginian field, testing the air for rotting flesh. Given that Abraham raises a crude knife, wanting to stop. Given that Mary Shelley dreams of dead William, wanting him back. Given that black limbs stand against the horizon. Given the sun that rises over Belsen, its light glinting off watchtowers and barbed wire. Given the mist that rises as insects leap in the grass. Given that Pluto is a mean 3.67 billion miles from the sun and very cold. Given the man braking in the left turn lane, waiting for the green arrow. Given the idle of engines. Given the solidity of stone, the void of rhetoric. Therefore: The red winged ants are mating. The stegosaurus is dying. The viruses are resilient. The stones stand in rich soil. |
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