Sunday, April 23, 2017
The Small Box
Old was she but fairly chipper.
She led me on a tour of her attic.
"Just ancient junk!"
In tangles and jumbles and piles.
Innumerable newspapers and magazines,
both yellowish-brown.
On extremely stuffed, large floral,
furniture. Atop all that, arthritic rockers.
Walls held gummy photographs of people
looking continually surprised.
After a bit, I felt covered in dust myself.
Finally to a locked room in the eaves.
Very sparse and neat. Just a small table
holding a mini cigar box.
“A record here of the truly rational decisions
I made during a long life.”
“Not much?”
“An awfully small part of existence.”
“Well, yours.”
That set her a-cackle!
Labels: irrationality, junk, Old Age, rationality
