A man with a cat wanders the town;
Sunflower oil has dampened the ground.
Because of the oil
the whole town may spoil,
But what’s to be done
when reality can’t be found?

The cat tips his hat as he leaves on the trolley;
But with furpaws and whiskers he can’t be trustworthy.
The man who sees
Falls to his knees,
Then in consternation and conviction
runs to the river crying of dereliction.

Meanwhile on the other side of town
The egalitarian elite of fine formed exclusion
are breaking bread and rioting in choreographed confusion.
A candle, an icon and right indignation,
One more displaced soul joins the asylum of the nation.

But what’s to be done when the feedback of the senses
Contradicts what reasonable folk set up as defenses?
“Are you normal?” They ask, with fine seeming concern,
“Just answer me honestly and you can choose your own turn:
To stay or to leave, why freedom is yours.
But really, what sense in this story outpoured?

Can’t you hear for yourself the unreason and passion
That led you to these impractical actions?
A cat and a trolley, good sir desist,
Such fancy simply cannot exist.
And what’s that you said about the oil?
Yes, true a man died, but that’s nothing related.
A devil, consultant, professor and madman? With sight of the future? Do get him sedated.”

Was it true what he said, those things disbelieved,
Or was his head a bit loose from his Tolstoy shirtsleeves?
Is it madness to be maddened by impossible deeds,
Or is the only sensible response to take leave
Of one’s senses when faced with the knowledge
Of this world’s less wholesome college?

It was said long ago, when injustice prevails,
The just man has no place but the jail.
Perhaps then too when the world is in thrall,
The man of right heart to the asylum must fall.
For what’s to be done when the stories reported
Simply don’t match society’s courses?

The cat doesn’t mind, you can think what you may
He’ll have a shot of vodka and then on his way.
Likewise the consultant is not here to please:
True his exposé reveals man’s disease,
But it is of heart and not head he seeks complicity.

So watch out who you meet, what you choose to believe,
For letting them tell you what’s true can lead
To a schism of thought with no known reprieve.
Keep your head on your shoulders, If that you can manage,
And look for compassion from those on your road
To help ease the burden of life’s disadvantage.

Men are mortal, they say... sometimes suddenly so.