Face To The Wall

here I am

speaking to the individual bricks

and the lines of mortar:

the wall is tall

I can’t see the top

doesn’t matter, really

the wall is here

and I talk to it

what moves it

to open its mouth?

Not sure, that’s a password

indecipherable to me

but still I must reach out

for I am but human,

in need of some conversation,

and I must communicate

necessarily sometimes, as needed:

you wanna go out?    “……….”

how’s Friday for the lawn?    “……….”

will I be getting that raise?    “……….”

peace be with you    “……….”

the wall, it’s ever there

before my face

does it hear me?

I don’t know…

…doesn’t matter

if it won’t respond

what’s the point?

now, the wall will disappear

sometimes, upon occasion, when:

the rent’s due

or I’m chewed out

or I’m asked a question

or I’m nasty-noted

it gets better:

I’ve tried to build one

a wall of my own

and God knocked it down

bulldozed by the One

who says “Do unto others”

the world, she’s mostly

a one-way street

need to build more two-ways

’cause these one-ways are byways

down which the hypocrites travel

too bushed, too busy or too callous

to hit that “send” button

yet they’ll hang you from a noose

if they don’t get a reply

as for me, I’ll go on talking

my face to the wall, staring

because perhaps, one day,

upon the bluest of all moons,

those bricks will come to life

and I’ll see her face open up

and the wall will answer

so that I no longer have to stand here

talking to myself

like a complete idiot