Qou Vadis, Melvin

Let us start with
An immovable object
Meeting an irresistible force,
What happens, Melvin?

Start with a glass
Half filled,
Half empty,
What now Melvin,
What do you see?
What will you say?

Or the most common
Argument of a hand
With a small bird
Held by an old man,
And you are the young
Boy asking, what do
You say now Melvin?
Is the bird alive or
Dead, is the bed forever
Remembered or forgotten?

A squeaking bed,
A bed,
Now, just any kind of bed
Reduced to an essence of bed
Like any other kind of bed
Where you sleep, in fact
Where everybody sleeps

The bed is now forgotten
And all squeaking beds
Are similar, nothing significant
And all the faces you met
Are similar faces in the
Marketplace, in the most
Common places of your heart,

That is forgetting something
That you cannot really forget,

Make them so familiar, so ordinary,
You get immunized, you get so numb
All of them similar, so affordable

Nothing hurts anymore, nothing
Even if you remember, there is nothing anymore.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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