Cosmic Raspberries

a little Neo-Dada from forty or so years back

When the rain came, it was apparent that
we had only a negligible amount of control
over our situation. The arrival of the wind
led to further confusion, and further loss
was in the offing, yet we persisted
in maintaining our undermined
position that there is Hope!
(ah, I knew it!)

and there are, after all, certain
advantages to the slow boil. (I sensed the
illusion in you of cosmic understanding)

and the lonely piano welcomes even
the touch of untrained fingers
(your pride keeps you from asking,
doesn’t it?) knowing full well that having
your ivories tickled by a stranger
in a somewhat half-assed manner
is infinitely better than not being
tickled at all (don’t be angry
with me) I knew after the first
bolt of lightning just how
little it all means. . .it was you,
in your “wisdom”, who, when the sun
finally appeared, frowned, startled, saying,
What is wrong?

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