Behind Every Ass

Behind Every Ass


Behind every ass there is a meaning.
The workings of our mind are such
They never go on strike-
One wonders of the guild of love
And its relentless efforts.
Does it never tire? That gray-clad swarm
Feet gnawing pavement, street wearing thin
Tatters of newspapers keeping out the chill
The sports page warms one the most.

Admirable, their persistence
They never stop loving
loyal to the labor,
But of dubious commitment to the fruit of the toil
They engage with ideas; now betrothed, now betrayed
For a merry night at the local pub
Entertained by comparing how long they can hold
A tantric metaphor – don’t blow it yet.

An idea comes visiting, swinging on in
And they embrace its benevolent grease-monkey demeanor
It’s cool, they say, their caps rakishly tilted:
amor vincit omnia.
Mindlessly barreling down grizzled asphalt streets
The salt and pepper guild careens on to oblivion
Never to cease, their feet drumming a pockmarked tattoo
Until the scout yells shrill and the group halts at once
A woman’s derriere is walking in front
It all comes down to this
And ten thousand poets are gushing with words
Outdoing each other, outdoing the birds:
There is a meaning behind every ass.