When The Metaphors Left..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the metaphors are gone,
the brain had been complacent
and enjoys its simple thoughts,
that clarity in simplicity,
nothing deep, nothing high,
just accepting things as they
come and go.

nothing convalescent or even
phosphorescent just the way
things are, in their nudity
and plainness, in their playful
manner and carefree ways.

and so the metaphors left, and
the poems become too pragmatic,
and not outstanding. just like
that woman who pass you by,
and you do not even ask about
her name, and where she lives.