Por Larry Bilello.
I have a confession to make,
but I’ll tell it to you later
after we talk about meaning, what is it?
Patchwork theories at the University of Chicago,
squinting students who obsess with line and word,
scholars sallying forth and waging battle
trenches digging, grenades launching
toss a meaning into No-Man’s Land
stop your shattering ear drums if you can,
courageous men go over the top
into the breach throw tear gas and smoke bombs
“if you see the whites of their eyes, stick ‘em”
says Oppenheimer to Drunken Mearsheimer,
“and then drop them in the martini glass.”
“But olives don’t have eyes,
the red things are pimientos,
I looked them up on google.”
“Oh, I do remember now, it’s the potatoes that have the
eyes, and the corn that has the
ears.” “Yes, quite right, I’ll drink to that.”
Is this in your conception,
the rule or an exception
to the sort of life lived by today’s contemplative aristocrats?
No, it’s late nights and longer days,
traveling sometimes far away,
keeping rivals hounds at bay,
and stealing from their jaws that coveted meat.
For when success’s juicy strips are at your finger tips
you cannot afford to simply lay about all day.
But, remember, how you and I, seeking bliss,
both turned our backs on this and
booked a train to Wall Street
there to meet a brighter destiny?
Well, truth to tell,
it’s working out pretty well.
Larry Bilello (22)