The Metaphysicians of South Jersey

The Metaphysicians of South Jersey


Because in large cities
the famous truths
already had been plumbed and debated,
the metaphysicians of South Jersey
lowered their gaze,
just tried to be themselves.
They’d gather at coffee shops in Vineland
and deserted shacks
deep in the Pine Barrens.
Nothing they came up with mattered
so they were free to be eclectic,
and as odd
as getting to the heart of things demanded.
They walked undisguised on the boardwalk.
At the Hamilton Mall they blended
with the bargain-hunters and the feckless.
Almost everything amazed them,
the last hour of a county fair,
blueberry fields covered with mist.
They sought the approximate weight
of sadness,
its measure and coloration.
But they liked
a good ball game too, well pitched,
lots of zeros on the scoreboard.
At night when they lay down,
exhausted and enthralled,
their spouses knew
it was too soon
to ask any hard questions.
Come breakfast, as always,
the metaphysicians would begin
to list the many small things
they’d observed and thought,
unable to stop talking
about this place
and what a world it was.


Stephen Dunn

Posted over on Nightsun #20