[lit-ideas] SUNDAY'S THURSDAY POEM
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 18 May 2006 04:49:02 -0500
OUTSOURCING THE SELF
It was a Thursday,
just like today,
when God came calling,
which surprised me
because I thought he always went golfing
on Thursdays
when Club rules were relaxed.
But there he was knocking on my door at 6 a.m.
I was afraid it was the police wanting the library book
"Sources of the Self" back
and the five years of past due fines
which I was uninclined to pay, not having read it yet.
But no, thank God, it was just God.
"I'm God," he said, "can I come in?"
I was so relieved.
He sat on the sofa, I the chair.
He was searching for words,
running his fingers through his hair.
The silence was awkward.
"Would you like something to drink?"
I asked.
"Do you have any Chivas?" he asked.
"Uh, no." I replied.
"Never mind, just bring me some water, I'll change it,"
he sighed.
So I brought him two buckets full. Best Chivas I've ever had.
"I'm worried about how I know myself," he said at last.
"How so?" I yawned.
"All existence depends on how I know myself," he shouted out,
either in emphasis or philosophical ardor,
"Even my own. Even my own," he ended softly.
"Your own what?" I asked humoring him since the Chivas was so good.
"My own existence. I yam what I yam," he said, then chuckled.
"Popeye had it right. I yam what I yam.
And so are you," he said, "and all existence."
But shouldn't God and the whole universe
be based on something more profound than Popeye?
I ask you."
"You've come to the wrong place," I said,
"Philosophy's not my field."
"Oh? What's your field?" God asked.
"Air Conditioning," I said.
"That's cool," God said, "so tell me,"
he continued, "how do you know yourself,
who you truly are, that is?
You're creating a world, too, you know.
One no less real than mine,
the world of yourself,
and it effects, affects, infects
many other worlds.
How do you know
how to go
about all that?"
I just do what I do because that's what I do,"
I replied.
A long moment of silence.
"What time is it?" He suddenly wanted to know.
"6:09." I chimed.
"Good, I can still make tee off time
at St. Andrews.
Don't delay DeLay, as they say."
and poof! He was gone.
Man, talk about your missed opportunities.
Mike Geary
Memphis
Other related posts:
