Table

People gather. They

eat, drink, speak. They

are among themselves

happily. They

celebrate this or that

occasion.

The cat

does not like

the cat door I installed.

It is not transparent.

I removed the flap. Now

the cat goes through

an open opening.

A distant

sound, a small engine

in the sky. I recall

planes at night when

I was a child. I feared

they carried bombs.

There is something called

a transcendent table.

That is, the table does not

exist, but the idea does.

Plato’s table.

I wish to be clear.

Clarity is not the same

as the literal. I object

to the literal.

What does this mean?

We had best pay

attention

to what we care about.

This is an economy of means.

To observe that life

pivots between care

and neglect.

My mother, an

alcoholic,

was cruel

when she was drunk.

She inhabits the pole

of neglect.

Care within

a paradigm of neglect

is tricky if

there is no thought of

a transcendent table.