David Fleming
It's All Academic   www.davidflemingsite.com   

March 13, 2022

A patch of black ice,

A car spinning out of control,

A moment of randomness,

A big whatever

Happening miles away

From the house where I paced,

A living example of whatever

As the subject of it all.


Whatever put that Buick on Route 40

Getting Bill to Great Falls through Sid's avoidance

Of bills, credits and whatever Billings couldn't offer.

Whatever put that young man with the distinctive swing

In his walk in the Baptist Church, God only knows,

So the shy, stubborn girl from the shadows of the stack,

Could be his date to a Senior Ball

Where fifty years later she could still recall

All fourteen songs on the dance card.

Yeah, sure, whatever.


Whatever exhausted swimmer in a sluggish pool,

Not to put too fine of a point on it,

Made its way to the winner's circle,

As specialists planned more intrusive intervention,

Carried our legacy from dead of night D.C.

To that spot you didn't quite see

Until a little too late, leaving any further chapter

Hanging in the median.

Yeah, sure, whatever.


And, yet, somewhere in between

I plodded down a path,

Benign bone-headed at first,

Blessed bone-headed at great lengths,

Where every random turn could have led

To a different place, different face,

In the search for things I couldn't see

To fill the empty spaces you also hate.

So, yeah, sure, whatever.


Whatever awaits us,

Just a vast greatness.