Blinded by the Light
This ardent man
locked inside his fading day,
this curious quizzical character
Who wouldn’t know the difference
between a sunbeam and a snowflake—
squinting at some scattered grain of comprehension
like a hungry fledgling, or nibbling
rabbit-like at yesterday’s remaining recollections
This adolescent suddenly grown up into
tomorrow, checking his cracked mirror
once again in disbelief. This unshaven
creature, blinking as he gropes for his bifocals
This unbeliever, still stubbornly refusing to
put his money on the red, the black
or, heaven forbid, a superstitious number
This absent minded traveler, struggling to
maintain his foothold as the raucous
thrusting, multi-colored crowd of blind
humanity rushes by — always lonely
even in the noisiest shoulder-to-shoulder
commute of peering prying eyes
This funny, white-haired man who after
three quarters of a century searching for
some straws of meaning in a haystack
of confusion; mouthing once again
his mantra life’s a joke, let’s have a laugh
This funny, curious, still bewildered man