1162. A FEW MEN

A FEW MEN
A few men making mischief can ruin a
world already gone high to Hell; can take
a tree and bend it 'til it breaks, can re-route
the rivers and streams until Scylla and
Charybdis look serene. I wouldn't pass
their way, for even a dollar or less.
I may have been to the hills. I may have
been past the gorge. I saw the arrival
of new Fall and all its colors and noise.
The toll house was filled but with skeletons
as I passed - and, to be truthful, it was
not any longer Halloween.
-
I get sick of the costumes and pretension.
A few men like this, feigning magic and skill,
can alter my world and enter at will. But I
will not let them in. The high heats of August,
all of them as one, will still linger in my memory
and keep their cold faces out.