I scan the horizon,
impatient in every pore,
leaning out of my skin,
stretching for a sight of:
The Next Big Thing.
Finally, from the place
where earth meets sky,
I catch the first glimpse!
Like a band of Bedouins,
The Next Big Thing
thunders toward me,
hooves pounding,
bells clanging,
cloaks snapping like flags,
trumpets blasting,
amid bleeting
and shouting,
dust clouds rising
like smoke from
a thousand fires.
The Next Big Thing
is coming so fast
but it takes so long.
Is it here yet?
Is it here now?
I smell the camels’ breath,
feel the grit in my teeth;
the wildness is so close
it is nearly upon me.
And then
in the next instant
The Next Big Thing
…evaporates…
fading to nothingness,
the riders rising up
like ghostly 3-D images
galloping silently
over my shoulders,
past my ears,
into oblivion.
I am bewildered,
bereft, and almost
immediately begin to
lean out of my skin,
straining toward the horizon
in search of
The Next Big Thing…
all the while
failing to notice
I am,
at the moment,
as always,
standing knee-deep in rose petals
holding buckets of marmalade.
Ann Keiffer
July, ‘98