The Thinker and the Fool

I

A large, sleek lab barked as the fool passed,

For the fool had crossed his dominion

Without stopping to pay his tariff.

The fool backpedaled with food in hand-

A paper cornucopia of

Salty fries and vanilla milkshake,

Of meat oozing juice that wetted the

Buttery buns even through the thin

Shield of aged dairy product and sparse

Vegetables doused in yellow mustard-

And hastily groped for the loose fries

That evolution willed to be cut

For maintaining a starch populous.

He instead managed to catch a rare

Fry of enormous length and grandeur.

But rules were rules, and the dog enjoyed

The payment as dogs do.  He ate it,

Allowed a quick scratch, and promptly left.

The fool stood for a while and thought.

And thought, and thought some more until he

Remembered that he hadn’t received

A formal education in the

Mystic science of philosophy.

This left him at a loss as to how

He should be reacting to the dog’s

Incredulous showcasing of great

Tyranny.  His antithesis came

Strolling along from the next junction.

II

A series of marcato barks came

As waves of echoes from down the street.

The sun crawled for the much needed rest

That came in its Rocky mountain bed.

And a lone man stood, vigilant and

Absorbed in thought, pondering over

The preceding events of the day.

He stroked his beard with spindly fingers

Of deep wrinkles and tanned, leather skin

Like the empty recliner that sat

In his emptied cave of great manhood.

Terms to describe the scene before him

Crowded his head, terms to describe the

Crowding and what it meant were bright red.

He had a bountiful learning

Under the guidance of so and so

To earn a Doctorate in something

That passed for modern philosophy.

He was highly respected in his

Field, having spoken at the banquets

For the charming Society of…

Of… oh no matter.  Names are but a

Way to attempt and explain away

The underlying mechanisms

Of a person’s true thoughts.  He plodded

As he pondered, and meditated

As he marched.  He cogitated as

He collided with some unseen force,

And felt a wet wave soak into his

Suit with a fruity, staining, deep splash.

III

Fries flew as the paper bag tore-

Like birds fleeing before the winter.

Mustard flowed like tangy, yellow blood

From the bag’s now torn flesh as meat fell

In meaty, oozing chunks to the ground.

The vanilla milkshake made a slow,

Somber pilgrimage to the nearest

Storm drain- sobbing white tears of lactose.

The Thinker’s

White, open, blank canvas waiting for

The colors of carnage to spill from

The bag.  Both jumped back in surprise,

And then the pride and testosterone came

Spilling across all barriers of

Morality and humanity

Like a flying drink that stains the soul.

The Fool gesticulated loudly

As he spoke a three-finger salute.

The Thinker, interrupted from his cry

Mimicked with an old, gravely thought.

It was an odd spectacle to watch.

Two people, both so different in the

Ways they held and conducted themselves;

Two people, both so different in the

Things they thought and believed about life-

Both barked like rabid, hungry dogs when

Anger blinded and deafened their minds.

Their marcato barks echoed about,

And philosophy took a brief leave.