Wednesday Poem

It is easy to imagine Heraclitus

walking stone streets witnessing

life in Athens with no permanence,

stopping strangers to explain about the river,

being laughed at as they moved

from point A to point B fearing Apollo

and Hades then at dusk drinking wine,

waiting for the happy obliteration alcohol brings,

not realizing how lucky they were

to be stupid and so deep

in their bodies even the sun

and moon trading places over and over

meant nothing.