By Martin Jones
One day it happens and you vanish,
maybe as you ponder verbs in Spanish,
strange to think, or worse, outlandish.
First, though, make of your imagination
an atomic habit, not just inclination.
Perhaps a love affair grows sadly sour
or the fellow never brings you flowers,
why not imagine vanishing an hour.
Or worse – you find a way to trash all hope,
but not calamitous enough for rope,
vanish with forged papers and you will cope.
Should we practice absence now, or soon?
Maybe learn to vanish in a crowded room
or for longer, like the far face of the moon.
One does not wish to banish all belief,
nor consider losing spouse or kids a big relief,
but each day steal a quiet hour like a thief
to vanish into daydreams or to thought
not of all those baubles that we’ve sought
but of noble passions, loves that harrow hell,
then, from all of this, learn to vanish well.
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