Ajax Among the Suburbs

18 Aug

The paper Peet’s cup lolls on its stained white lip
Thrown on the cement, near the damp cedar mulch
So valiant, swinging in an arc on the Tuesday breeze,
Reminding me of headstrong Ajax, thrusting his sword
Into the Hectorish chaos found here, even in Suburbia

At home, you seek camping sites on the Internet, finding
Photos of rinky-dink pools, with families, the parents
Slightly overweight, slightly bored, and slightly pale
Under the harsh white sun, beside the painted pool house
Housing torn chaises and the smell of trapped chlorine

You know that this will not do, that their day at camp
Cannot salve the ancient itch that drove them to it
Cannot freeze-frame the modern movie into a majestic
Columna cerului, carved with scenes of their filigreed lives
So they can see it all at once, and make sense the scenes

You, too, know the play, and the players but just cannot
Follow the script, so prepare instead for the night journey
Sailing across the wine-dark sea to the shouldered island
Of Alone, like millions of others, beneath the stars, sensing
That wherever you turn from here the sand road leads home.

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