I Wonder

the writing is on the wall
but for weeks
it’s been on a handwritten sign
at the corner of Main Street
and Emerson Avenue–
black foamboard
white letters
hunched over in the snow–
a kind of crude, yet sincere
devotion to philosophy–
an invitation, really,
to fill in the blank.
“I wonder ______”
Two words that begin a question
so capacious
I worry about the one
who put it there–
what was she thinking?
It must have been a she
who believed existentialism
was the path to understanding
what couldn’t be easily defined–
or maybe it was a man
who erected the sign–
whose only wish
was to know what happened
to the woman who got away
and this was a cry to the universe–
a universe
that will never answer
or care.






One thought on “I Wonder”

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