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Poetry
The Philosopher’s Cellphone
by Mark Silcox
“I’ve often thought that Plato’s cave was rather an exaggeration –
Mankind’s fate is not a mere” – brring brring – “oh, damn, the
phone –
Hello Imelda. Yes I did pick up the tickets at the station.
What? The dog? The carpet?? – soul-confining house of stone.”
“It seems almost quixotic – use a dishcloth! Soap and lots of water!
Dishcloths, dishcloths… there should be one in the lavatory.
She’s crying? Well, give her a bone! – The world around us seems to offer
More than just the dance of shadows in that allegory.”
“And furthermore, methinks that while in Ancient Times – no peanut butter?
Right, I’ll add it to my list. We’re also out of floss.
There was a fairly short path from the stars straight down into the gutter,
Our Modern Age provides us with no corresponding loss,”
“When we turn our gaze from sunlight to – my indigestion’s better, thanks,
It must have been that Egg Foo Young, or p’raps the Chinese Tea
Be home in time for Jeopardy! – life’s illusions in all their ranks
Our eyes will not be blinded to the aspect of eternity.”
© Mark Silcox 2005
(Mark Silcox lives in Auburn, Alabama)