THE FIGURE AT THE WINDOW
Amid fellow navigator Knights clamoring at the heels of
Al-Freedomster’s daytime talk show bonanza,
In raucous, melodious chants,
Welcome to the Monkey House,
where life is fun and games
Welcome to the Monkey House,
you’ll find we’re all the same
Welcome to the Monkey House,
you’ll find an excellent view
Welcome to the Monkey House,
find the Monkey House in you
I resort to locking myself in,
And my fellows out
In self-imposed solitude,
A temporary self-exile from all social activity
To slow the beating of my heart
And peer out the window for long periods of time,
In silent staring,
A donning of the cone-shaped hat
For purposes of inducing thought.
I come here to think sometimes.
I lock myself in and I peer out the window.
This room has an excellent view.
Still, eventually,
I felt compelled to reach out,
To share my thoughts privately with someone
Before the talk show scribes picked up the scent,
Pitched me a format,
And presented them on the air
For fans of Al-Freedomster to repeat and dissect
And laud the world over…
So I asked myself,
Who am I to reach out to?
Following the realization that my jawbone had gone missing,
And thus my only way to communicate beyond grunting
Was via the technology of text messaging,
I clutched my phone,
And slouched at the window,
Typing, sending, waiting.
And though I waited for a long time
My messages received no replies.
Then the phone dropped from my hand
And fell two stories down
Into a black puddle.
San Francisco, 2012