Time and Distance
by Alan Walowitz
Two trains leave Whoville and Anytown at noon
and we’re told to determine when they meet,
not to mention if the bodies will be laid aside the tracks,
or they’ll be carted off in refrigerated trucks–
so much for the beauty and synergy of math.
Then, soon as we realize it’s not us on a train
bound for oblivion, it’s only our canned goods lined up
on the patio table to be scrubbed and bleached,
and we watch as the labels fade in the warm spring sun.
After a while we can’t tell the garbanzos from the pigeon peas.
Yes, we hoped for the taste of some future hummus,
but maybe those nasty limas could be sufficient for now–
if only this doesn’t turn out to be the rest of our lives,
and it’s just another maddening and unscheduled stop.
Process notes: I hate math and lima beans and needless deaths and washing my groceries.
Alan Walowitz is a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual, an Online Community Journal of Poetry. His chapbook, Exactly Like Love was published by Osedax Press, and his full-length, The Story of the Milkman and Other Poems, is available from Truth Serum Press.