BRAIN TEASED
Sure there was something in me that needed
to solve the paradox of the heap, the elevator problem,
the unexpected hanging, the Thompson Lamp.
I drew the diagrams, defined three herders
and their sheep into formulas and fractions.
I drove my brain like some of those same sheep.
Might have had it too. The numbers, the equations,
were about to surrender to the sweat of my brain.
But suddenly I thought, what's the point of knowing something?
Why not make coffee? Why not sit out on the porch
and watch the sun set? What's a big mental payday
anyhow but some quirk of the geek in me that
won't lie down when I tell it to. Well now I'm
telling it to. Sip of excellent Java, comfy chair,
and a warm glow to the horizon. And then it
hits me, the right hand rule, will get you out
of the maze any time. But that doesn't help with
the rotating color wheel. The coffee's drunk.
The sun goes down. Empty cup and the night...
now what is that the answer to exactly?
to solve the paradox of the heap, the elevator problem,
the unexpected hanging, the Thompson Lamp.
I drew the diagrams, defined three herders
and their sheep into formulas and fractions.
I drove my brain like some of those same sheep.
Might have had it too. The numbers, the equations,
were about to surrender to the sweat of my brain.
But suddenly I thought, what's the point of knowing something?
Why not make coffee? Why not sit out on the porch
and watch the sun set? What's a big mental payday
anyhow but some quirk of the geek in me that
won't lie down when I tell it to. Well now I'm
telling it to. Sip of excellent Java, comfy chair,
and a warm glow to the horizon. And then it
hits me, the right hand rule, will get you out
of the maze any time. But that doesn't help with
the rotating color wheel. The coffee's drunk.
The sun goes down. Empty cup and the night...
now what is that the answer to exactly?
SHIFTS
Woman fears for man -
he goes alone at night
for third shift work -
no weapon
in his pocket -
his face
straight ahead –
as he walks
the backblocks of the inner city
his own fear
rises around him
unreasonable and pursuing -
she thinks herself lucky
that he's never been mugged,
never been beaten up
or worse
but there's always tonight -
when she goes to work
in the morning,
all she needs is the mirror's approval
and a refusal to remember
how she looked twenty years before -
she's going out
as he's coming in unscathed -
as one sense of relief to another
they kiss on the stoop -
he goes alone at night
for third shift work -
no weapon
in his pocket -
his face
straight ahead –
as he walks
the backblocks of the inner city
his own fear
rises around him
unreasonable and pursuing -
she thinks herself lucky
that he's never been mugged,
never been beaten up
or worse
but there's always tonight -
when she goes to work
in the morning,
all she needs is the mirror's approval
and a refusal to remember
how she looked twenty years before -
she's going out
as he's coming in unscathed -
as one sense of relief to another
they kiss on the stoop -
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Silkworm work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.
