A Character In A Novel

Thomas Pynchon’s “V” a character half human half

automaton, mechanical, unrefined, falling apart yet

continuously on, going nowhere faster and

slower at the same time, reminds me a lot of me.

I’m made up too, figments of my imagination became

filaments weaved together through time resulting in

this animated animatron programmed for a banal end.

“They don’t make them like that anymore.”

Sure, not the cars and refrigerators that used to last forever,

nor the truths on which civilizations were built, then lost,

then remembered over and over, came back as a shock.

Death comes as a shock to many who haven’t been paying

attention, who look for their minds to be planted forever 

in some machine, beat the reaper, sidestep the scythe guy,

or give up and hope for the best.

There are so many signs, so much wisdom floating in the air,

in the sounds of birds and bees, in the smell next to skyscrapers,

in a sunset on the beach, in the screech of tires at a drag show,

in the perfume at a drag show,  in the trussed up, buttoned up

automorons telling you how it is, in the old fisherman you know

who just knows, in that one relative you look to for sanity, in

the call of the roosters, the lowing of cows.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

What makes you think you know?

If someone disagrees and you react immediately with anger,

that’s a clue you don’t know shit.

“To know is to get lost.” Sakaki

Lot of that going around.

That’s different than knowing I’m falling apart because

falling apart makes sense in the order of the universe.

Just ask it.

Ask it by looking.

Look at it. Look at it again. Look at it a third time

before you decide to jump to conclusions.

It won’t make you live longer, but maybe,

you’ll find out what life is and what it’s for.

Oops, there went another piece of my heart.

Perhaps notice a slight tinkle as you pass by.