Mary

-Mary-
by Keaton Foster


I sort of know a lady
Her name is Mary
And quite frankly
Mary
Is absolutely crazy
She lives on my street
And for hours on end
She can often be seen
Walking in circles
Mumbling to herself
Pulling out her hair
Clawing at her skin
Pointing towards the sky
Stomping upon the ground
Expressing her anger
At something unseen
She, Mary
Is not married
She has no kids
From what I know
Mary has spent
Her entire life alone
Doing as she has done
The cops have come
Time and again
But as long as she
Is hurting no one
There is, as they say
Nothing that can be done
The consummate observer
Some days I spend hours
Watching her do circles
I often imagine
What it is she is saying
Why it is she is saying it
How come she is cursing the sky
And abusing the ground
What is really going on
In her clearly
Screwed up mind
What’s her story?
And can I get her
To let me tell it
This
What Mary has been doing
Has gone on for years
So one day I finally decide
That I’ve had enough
No more observation
No more speculation
I decide to approach Mary
Wanting to ask her
All the questions long since
Circling in my own head
Mary
Why do you do this?
Why are you here
Walking in these circles?
Why do you curse the sky?
And stomp the ground?
Unlike ever before
Mary stops in her tracks
She looks right at me
With her vacant eyes
And sincerely replies
Who the hell is Mary?


Mary
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015.