ONE

WAY

taunted by a traffic sign 


black letters and arrow on a reflective white field

a half-inch border cut a half-inch inside the signs edges

removed by someone from its station

laying flipped upside-down on the side of the road that wasnt one way

he carried it home tucked in his armpit and leaned it against the trunk of a failing black walnut in his yard

two years ago

he turned it on its side so its arrow pointed to Hell

nobody liked his joke

they were put off

imagine that

didnt like tempting fate he supposed 

but then maybe they were preoccupied with Hell

they encouraged him to flip its sides so the arrow pointed to Heaven

he didnt like that joke

this morning having coffee on the porch he stood looking into the backyard

he enjoyed the harping jays darting hummingbirds and terminally-wistful wrens their hopping through narrow branches thickets clinging to the grey weathered and tarred telephone pole electric pole and dancing on top of  planked fences pirouetting on picket slats  

their busyness and complete oblivion of the sign at the foot of the walnut

the sign now upright on its end

taunting him

ONE

WAY

the birds were one way

he liked the one way they were

atheists  unbelievers like him

unworried  jabbering  steady  assured  

while the branches they clutched with their feet bobbed and moved on the breeze erratically

no rhyme  rhythm   dissonant

be-as-it-will

he looked again at its accusation

ONE

WAY

the sign had nothing to say regarding traffic

1212,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  17  8. 16

Nabakov  Laughter in the Dark:  Death is often the point of life’s joke