The Thinker
Location
Along with the Thespians and the Thieving
Traveled the Thinker, boisterously singing
Songs with the lot of them, stopping only
To laugh at herself and at their lonely,
Crooked, drunken notes. She put on great
Shows for those she knew would stand like bait
In an open sea, waiting for something
To snatch them up all at once and bring
Them a glimpse of happiness. This they needed,
And this she, with joy in her heart, completed.
But on days when there was no social fortitude,
She lived deeply for silence and solitude,
For contemplation and understanding
Of things she might have been reprimanding
The day before, playing devil’s advocate
Against herself. In every predicament,
She would change her mind and back again,
Filling her head with noise, just as her friends
Had filled the silence outside her mind
With songs of love, of suffering, of delight,
Only moments before. If her thoughts bore
In her a peaceful conclusion, her door
Would burst in the morning and flash
Her shining, large smile as she dashed
From place to place, preparing for the day.
But, if her thoughts had lingered and frayed
Without sufficient settlement, as they
Often did, she’d have naught to do but pray
For the dark of night to seep in through
The blinds that slipped down over her moon-
Round, red-tinted brown eyes and hope for
Only simple situations to be in store
For the day that always undoubtedly came.
It was in these nights she doused her flame
By crossing her long, dance-worn legs
Over her bedroom floor, adjusting the pegs
Of her mountain dulcimer to tune the strums
She could not fully hear, for the drums
Of her ears were numbed with loss at birth,
A loss that took no toll on the worth
Of the sounds and words that slid past her thick lips
And sent a gentle rock into her hips.
As she sang, the noises that polluted
Her brain, dripped out, convoluted,
From a well that held her mother’s voice
And made her sane as all versions of choice
Melted into the hums and words of songs she sang
As the journeyers traveled along the way.