The Life and Times of my Copper Tube

The yellow glow of daylight,
Seen through a copper tube,
Is the rising sun…if the sun were contained in a copper tube.

Fred stands on the floor,
Only a black dot on the ground
With a thin ring of copper encircling it.

The tube rises forever,
Casting its shadow on the wall,
It is larger than imagination can conceive…
Smaller than you think.

Where does it belong?
What does it do?
The tube is lost.

You cannot
Make bread out of it,
It just breaks the machine.

You cannot get
Copper juice out of it,
That doesn’t exist.

You cannot
Grill it like a hot dog.
It just melts.

It does not blend
With nature very well—

When launched into the air
It falls.
Just like a brick does
And just like birds don’t.

My copper tube does not like long walks on the beach,
Nor does it enjoy a night out on the town.

I cannot walk my tube as I would a dog.
I can roll it down the sidewalk.


My tube does not purr like a cat.
When questioned on the issue it decided to remain reticent.

Nor does it swim like a fish.
As a rule, copper tubes do not like water.

Copper tubes cannot type term papers.
A great shame indeed.

Nor can a copper tube
Cook food for you…
Unless you use it as a rolling pin.

My tube cannot sing me to sleep,
Nor can it compose beautiful prose
with which to win the hearts of beautiful young ladies.

…As if I needed help with that…

Tubes cannot solve the quadratic formula
Or take the derivative of 3X^4+(2X^6-44X).

But they are useful for bashing
Your enemies over the head
And for propping open doors.

Oh my dear Fred, whatever shall come of you!?

Come to think of it,
Is “dear” the right word
To use here?

Wait there! What do I see?
Off in yon dusty, stinky garage!
A herd of copper tubes!
They lie about as only copper tubes can.

That is your purpose, my friend!
I shall make you a bed of the finest…
Trash bags
And there in sibilant silence
You will observe
Your obvious occupation.

How happy I am now
to have helped my dear copper tube.