Graham Words

Does God exist? What is time? Is dark matter real? These are some of life's greatest questions. But not all mysteries of the universe are profound. Nobody seems to know, for instance, how much spaghetti to cook without having a week's worth of leftovers.

[Two college friends are sitting across from each other at a picnic table near an American elm. Here's part of that conversation found under the minimal shade of an otherwise sunny afternoon...] Bob: This intro psychology course is wired to fire much unnecessary yawning. I knew I should have studied nephrology. Fred: Intro psychology courses don't cover pseudoscience? Bob: I believe you're thinking of phrenology . Fred: Correct me on my word usage one more time, and your kidneys will be in danger! Bob: Given these lexical problems, perhaps we need to visit a neurologist who specializes in grammar. To the linguistics department we go! Fred: Never. I don't eat Italian.

Like memories, they are littered around the city where I expect them and where I don’t Blue and crème signs as cold as our eyes and as silent as snow banks on March’s ides I’m empty without you, as the bus is void without me I try not to miss either of you, but waiting can’t last forever They waited for transit and it found them, and I never knew them except through the place in which they waited

Would the basin grumble if the lake disappeared— if stirring waves became impassive stones? Would the grass cry at the snowy caravan in sight or the sun's abandonment at night? Should the heart despair when it is pricked by silence? Attachment and trust are not the same science.

I have a word for everything, from morphemes and sentences to subatomic particles and mystical philosophy —everything except wonder, my out-of-stock commodity. Logic on stilts has become unhandsome. So I approach this streetlamp star to ask, wonder, where you are! And now the headlights bend like anxious, icy comets. Car after car after car after car . . . but none of them know my thought after thought after thought after thought. No connection is made, whether by the pane or on the sidewalk, my telescopes to the ordinary. Must I relate to the world literally? LED, aluminum, plastic, and halogen do not impress metaphors and similes.