A Walk Home

Two blown-over trees

and a fire

on my walk home

make me believe the world

is up to something,

but being

positive is positively

 

impossible.

 

I suppose I should explain, also,

that I quit smoking yesterday—and

haven’t relapsed with even a single

puff—and have been fasting all

day

 

(which may have something to do with the significance

I feel);

but when you get right down to it, so many things seem

to be

going on in so many directions of existence that it is not

in me

to be able to catalogue and understand them all: with an

almost

impossible speed they seem to be running at me at break

neck

speed.

 

And I come home to find two trees blown down

on an unspecial day—there was no horribly heavy

wind—and a fire that started out of nowehere—

with nobody around to mind it.

 

Can they possibly be related?

And all this after the most significant ten

days of my recent history.

 

Or is it just mattering residue?

 

“You can find meaning in anything if you look hard enough?”

That fucked me up for a long time,

but then I realized:

if you never look for meaning

you’re certainly bound to never find any.