Empty Spoons

The driver sat down by the edge of the water,

spoon in hand, pondering what flavors life

had left to offer

Bored with blue, the fool stood up and waved his spoon,

unaware of his own melancholy. “Declarations,”

he declared, “Declarations will be made as to what

it takes to suit me!”

The water snake could not hear him from where

it slithered along through the shallows – a turtle slipped

off of its rock only to take a swim

While fish chortled about in schools of leisurely thought,

oblivious to one of theirs which floated, catatonically,

to the surface, as if in tribute

And, off across the way, a fiddler tugged a

sloppy bow across a row of gleaming strings –

“Damn Hippie!” the driver scowled,

“Damn fool!”

Some play their songs with empty spoons,

others stand there, famished,

while the water turns bloody red.