Empty and marvelous

 

I walked down a street that was not a street

to enter a shop that wasn't there

and asked the clerk who didn't exist

for a lottery ticket that was already expired.

It is marvelous to be so empty.

But that very contentment 

escapes me like water in a sieve.

So I will tell you a story

that illustrates nothing:

Not long ago

there lived a man and his daughter.

They were too poor to cook and eat

so they went door to door to 

smell the frying and baking of others.

The aromas sustained them for a long time.

But people began to resent their great pleasure

in something they had no hand in providing or

preparing.

So they were taken to a high cliff and shoved off.

The man and his daughter weighed so little

after so many years of not eating

that they floated gently to the ground,

unharmed.

And the site of this great miracle became

a gathering place for many rich and dyspeptic

people. Eventually a great temple was built

on the site, using slave labor and decorated

with looted gold and gems from around the world.

But the man and his daughter

who started the whole thing

were never permitted to see the inside of it.

They couldn't afford the entry fee.

Besides, none of this ever happened

and you didn't read about it.

So it doesn't register as anything

and won't be remembered,

like smoke meeting fog.