Hoisting up a Hill with a Fellow
that looked a lot like Beckett

They passed the two men staring each other down
at the urinal trough. They’d had enough of Politics.
And now they were into some serious Grief.
And one said to the next: ‘Mine’s much bigger
than yours is.’ And then another and another:
‘Wait til you see this.’ Til finally one said:
‘Well how do you measure it? And the Man
with nothing but a Deep Groove for a Face said:
‘Stand on this scale and hold out your bag.
And watch it fill with stones.’ And they
did. Saying ‘See…I told…’ Til The Man said
‘Hush. Hoist your Hefty bags and let’s go up
the hill.’ And there at the top was the silhouette
of a Woman, who had recently misplaced both
her crutches, and was balancing precariously
on one leg in the middle of a wheelbarrow.
Just then a Young Man went flying up to catch her.
He grabbed her just in time and they both went rolling
down the other side, four-leaf clovers in their eyes,
all the way back to childhood, the unseen wheelbarrow
rolling slowly behind. As the others screamed “No, No…’
And the Man said: ‘Hush. We’ll all meet here someday.
Onward to the top.’ And just then a Greek of ancient stature
came rolling down, a large boulder following him, and then
another holding his side, buzzards following, as everyone ducked
and tried to get out of the way, then came the entire cast of Jesus
Christ Superstar, followed by a thousand crosses made in Taiwan,
Benny Hill and Monty Python, Buster Keaton and a thousand
would-be brides, Samuel Beckett and a thousand tin garbage lids,
and even more dead honey bees ricocheting. ‘Hmmm…they say
we could all be extinct soon.’ ‘You say it like it’s a bad thing.’
‘Hush. To the top.’ And they made their slow Hefty Bag trek
all the way and one said: ‘Now what?’ And the Man said:
‘Take a deep breath and throw it off.’ And with a 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…
they hurled their bags down. Only it was as if they were tied
by some invisible string that sent them down the hill with them,
crashing in a heap one on top of the other. It would be a while
to see if anyone could find the stones to move.

©2007 by Ray Sweatman

Trash Can, Western Wyoming
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