taking out the trash

john f. marok.  too much thinking.  48"x36"  oil/canvas

*****

i was resting on my studio floor when i heard a rapping, a rapping at my door.

said i:  who is it?
said it: it's your conscience, you locked  me out again last night.
said i: well, i told you to be home by 11 and you weren't so...
said it: it was a few minutes past, i was sitting on the deck with my friends.
said i: don't give me that, another one of your excuses.
said it: well, whaddya want me to do... just spend the rest of my life with you and your thoughts?
said i: what's that supposed to mean?
said it: you never do anything, you just think, think, think.
said i: something you should do a little more of.
said it: that's just it...i hate thinking, hate being the voice of reason, it's dull, predictable, boooring.
said i: okay, then just leave. go. and take your dumb friends with you.
said it: maybe i will. maybe i'll just take off. never come back. how'd you like that?
said i: i'd be happy. don't even send me a postcard.
said it: okay then...i'm outta here, sayanara, arrivederci, good riddance.
said i: i feel better already,

*****