The Only Point Of The Story.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

inside the room
there are two pigs

the black one is
hungry
the white one is
always thirsty and
they make a
good pair for a show
on a Sunday
fair

the room is a chapel
and the priest is making
a sermon
why pigs are tolerated
to become clowns
and why clowns are different

instead of making children
laugh
they keep on making them
cry
for their heads have horns
and their hands are
thorns

the shoes on the floor are dogs who
keep on barking the moon
whose face as usual is blank
like an unwritten letter to an
old grandmother
who lives seven seas away

solitude is all over the place
like the light of the moon
over the roof and the esplanades
and the garden where weeds
begin singing the
silence of the stones and the
twigs cut by owls who are not
looking wise anyway

up there is a boy on a tree
running away from home

actually that is the only
point of the story.