by Joseph Cutler
Magritte beat me up in the parking lot
As I was walking towards my car.
A nicely dressed gentleman-
Bowler hat, crisp suit, gold headed cane.
I thought he wanted directions.
He took everything.
Now I know, he’s the kind of guy
Who will invite you over for coffee
But will slip something into your drink…
Without warning you are walking on the bottom
Of the deep blue sea,
Talking to the glowing pearls
In the giant clams.
Or, suddenly you are flying, high
Over your childhood home, looking down
Through the clouds,
An apple for a head,
Trying to remember your name.
© Copyright 2020 Joseph A. Cutler, all rights reserved. No reproduction without prior written permission.