THE BONE YARD

We seemed to be entering the bone yard,

located in a place that wasn’t too hard to find. 

We didn’t want to sit down when we got there,

because we didn’t want it said at any time

that we were a bunch of rude people. 

By the same token, we didn’t want to stand up. 

Because that would have made us too tired. 

And left us open to the accusation that we were scouting

around for a new place to deposit our bags. 

So we just kind of floated above the bone yard,

looking for a good place to drop our leaflets.

We held on to one another’s coattails for company. 

And to give us a good idea of what navigation was really all about. 

We ended up floating there until it was either

the late afternoon or the first part of the last part of the day,

because we never quite understood the difference. 

Despite our years of intense studies,

everything turned out to be a metaphor. 

And we thought that one part of the day

in its own hapless fashion would stagger our affinities for once.