We came to the dusty
Afterthought of a town
Around noon. She squinted
Into the custard sun and asked
If we were yet in Cahoots

Right there, I said,
Pointing down the road
To a row of shingled houses
And a solitary
Traffic light swinging in the wind.

It looks deserted, she said,
Being kind.
No need to choose
Your words, I smiled.
It looks like the gateway
To Purgatory, darling.

Her unspoken questions rained down
On me. If it was so awful
Why were we here?
What was our purpose?
Where were we going?

I said, our sins are too
Great for people of
Breeding
And comfort to bear
It is either exist here
And keep the dust
From filtering through
Our noses, or
Live in circumstances
Too severe for people
Of our ilk to survive

That would be hell,
She said, holding my elbow
Tightly.
That would be indeed,
I said, and touched her fingers
Lightly.

So, she said,
It appears I’ll be
In Cahoots with you
Forever.

And I just smiled back and said:
So it appears.

03/09/2011

Author's Note: Call this a whimsical parable

Posted on 03/09/2011
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch