The Buddha is tied down
in the back of a truck
the countryside rolls by
and it looks like rain
I shall enter the cave of my heart
discard unneeded appurtenances
set myself to face the sun
build a fire, rub my hands
and read a little Shakespeare
Remember outrageous fortune
and nothing new under the sun
how could I not penetrate
these exhausted dreams?
Lear, Macbeth, Othello, Julius Caesar
the kings, the knaves and villains
watch them all watch the Buddha
thunder down the oily road
a word for highway on his lips
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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