An Uninvited Watermelon

The watermelon, being stuffed
in a plastic bag held by an unwelcome
hand, came into my house. As if the hand
itself was not interested in what did come

with the bag, it didn’t even move
a finger when the house owner uttered
the empty words; “you didn’t have
to bring this.” The bag held

by the new owner was put in one
corner of the kitchen.  No one,
neither the hand that brought the watermelon,
nor the hand that received the watermelon

cared if its taste was awesome or
awful. Perhaps they didn’t even care
if it was a real watermelon or not.
Although the melon, a mere whatnot,

survived being pushed in and out
of all the corners in the house, It never
was out of the bag. One day, the worn-out
bag was seen accidentally by the owner

and was thrown into the trash bin
with still breathing watermelon in it.
The thought that it might have been
the severest and delicious tidbit

In the world never occurred
to anybody in the house.
The watermelon never existed
from this world’s nascence.

 

Dumped Man

A happy-looking man who
keeps throwing stones to
a murky horizon far far away
buried in a deep deep fog.

The happier-looking man who
Is gazing at the dim fluttering of
a seagull-like bird in a thick thick mist.

As if worshipping the horizon,
as if waiting for the fog to be lifted,
a happy rock with a look of
throwing stones into the sea water.

A very very old rock.