Let’s say for a moment
That a man isn’t a man,
But is instead something else
That may resemble a man
But only on a symbolic level;
Perhaps he is a flag.
On that same page
Let’s proclaim that a woman
Is a strong breeze or wind,
And now that we’ve established
A healthy agreement on how
We are going to proceed
Let us do just that.
The flags stay motionless
In the heat of a dry June afternoon,
When suddenly the breeze
Picks up and the flags begin
To flutter in the wind,
Moving about just as intensely
As the wind that compels them.
They dance together in ways
That resemble how a kid and ewe
Prance about on wild meadow grass,
Yet unaware of that truth of life
That will soon divide and conquer
For no reason other
Than that’s the way it’s always been.
Gatekeepers pull rip cords to release
Parachutes that drag up while
The natural order is to fall down,
Or at least that is how
The magician with the dusty wig
Informed us to believe.
Flags come down and are folded
By demure hands rusted from
Rattling bars on prison cells,
Sentenced to an unmeasured time
Confined in darkness
Where no colored banners
Can signal or sway again.
The wind will still blow,
Perhaps set off by the wings
Of a butterfly or the dying words
From a hurricane forming
Off the coast of Africa,
Its dust creating rain.
Composed 07/14/2012
Author’s Note: Culture can be a funny thing. When travelling from one to another, you tend to notice the differences. Some are blatantly obvious, others are more subtle and must be learned through experience. Once you begin to learn them, you notice that the new culture is not so different from your old culture in many larger or general aspects. I guess all I’m really trying to say is be cautious and courteous when dating, wherever you are.
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