The Thin King

The usual life sneaks through

The wariest self-regard.
Ask a pond about a fish
Or a fish about the pond.
You'll get answers as succinct
And honest as from asking
A mind about an idea,

An idea about the mind.
Well, honestly, more succinct.

Fish must be mostly water,

Subject to the same physics,
Hungry in a way ponds aren't.

Ideas must be mostly life.
So these ideas found themselves,

One night in Albuquerque,
Gathered around a table
Of food and spirits, falling

Through cascades from mind to mind,

Common, ornamental thoughts,
Turning and then returning,
Never far from the surface,

Relaxed, having a good time.
Two wives, four husbands, three girls

(Two other wives and two boys
Elsewhere for the night), made light

Of heavy subjects, as friends
Who are also strangers can.
Plates passed around the table,

As the server did, clockwise.
The littlest of the three girls
Went around counterclockwise.
No one fought. No one broke up,
No one choked on a mouthful.
Everyone got home safely,
Despite the talk of past lives,

Past combinations, partners,
Offices, careers, costumes,
Lovers. It was Halloween.
It was the server's birthday.
He was dressed as the Joker.
One girl was dressed as "a nerd."
Her sister was Lucile Ball,

In gingham dress suggesting
Dorothy with henna hair.
The littlest girl wore black.
She was "a bat-erina."
One mother wore a green shirt
With a monster face on it.
Otherwise, the usual

Home or workplace costumes ruled
Among the grown-ups, far more
Playful than the girls that night,
But hardly raucous or weird.
No drama here folks, move on.
Except there was drama, pure,
Plain, dramatis personae.

In the pond, the black koi flashed
As lanterns winked at the waves.
Talk burst out with more laughter,
And the party headed home.
In the courtyard, that puppet
Bat girl called "skeleton man"
Sat thinking of the next day.