Making History

 

—Poetry by Russell Edson, 1928-2014

—Public Domain Artwork

THE LOVE AFFAIR

    One day a man fell in love with himself, and was unable to think of anything else but himself.
    Of course he was flattered, no one had ever shown him that much interest . . .

    He wanted to know all about himself, his hobbies, his likings in music and sports.
    He was jealous he had not known himself as a child. He wanted to know what kind of a boy he had been . . .

    When asked if he thought it would lead to marriage, he said that that was his fondest wish, that he longed to have babies with himself . . .

_________________

AN HISTORICAL BREAKFAST

    A man is bringing a cup of coffee to his face, tilting it to his mouth. It’s historical, he thinks. He scratches his head: another historical event. He really ought to rest, he’s making an awful lot of history this morning.
    Oh my, now he’s buttering toast, another piece of history is being made.
    He wonders why it should have fallen on him to be so historical. Others probably just don’t have it, he thinks, it is, after all, a talent.
    He thinks one of his shoelaces needs tying. Oh well, another important historical event is about to take place. He just can’t help it. Perhaps he’s taking up too large an area of history? But he has to live, hasn’t he? Toast needs buttering and he can’t go around with one of his shoelaces needing to be tied, can he?
    Certainly it’s true, when the 20th century gets written in full it will be mainly about him. That’s the way the Cookie Crumbles—ah, there’s a phrase that will be quoted for centuries to come.
    Self-conscious? A little; how can one help it with all those yet-to-be-born eyes of the future watching him?
    Uh oh, he feels another historical event coming . . . Ah, there it is, a cup of coffee approaching his face at the end of his arm. If only they could catch it on film, how much it would mean to the future.
    Oops, spilled it all over his lap. One of those historical accidents that will influence the next thousand years; unpredictable, and really rather uncomfortable . . . But history is never easy, he thinks . . .

 

__________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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