Rene Magritte - Personal Values
On my 21st birthday, a box arrived at the door.
'What is it?', I asked myself, prodding and poking with a stick.
'It's a box', said the courier, his arms straining under the weight.
'Should I sign for it?', I asked.
'Yes', he said, and I did.
'Would you like some tea?' I asked as an automatic defence.
'Yes', he said, forcing his body over the threshold and into my home.
Once we'd finished our tea he took his leave and left,
And I remained alone again, a courier bereft,
I prodded and poked for the rest of the day,
And at the end of it all I gave it away
To a charity shop,
The box.
A week later my friend came round.
'Would you like some tea?'
'Yes, that'd be lovely'.
And so we sat, and he talked.
He talked of music I didn't know,
And films that broke the mould,
He told me how to roast a duck,
And philosophies of old.
He talked without speaking,
In platitudes without meaning,
And used big words he'd heard,
Absurdly preening in the mirror of his verse.
'Subversive' he'd say,
'Yes', I'd say.
'Contemporary', he'd say,
'Yes', I'd say,
'Cultured', he'd say,
'What else?', I'd say.
When he'd finished his tea we went upstairs,
To admire my marvellous collection of clocks,
Tick Tock, Tick Tock,
Tick Tock, Tick Tock,
He commented upon the mechanics of it, how smoothly it all ran.
'Thank you', I said, 'I try the best I can'.
Tick Tock, Tick Tock,
Feeling the need to return the compliment,
I turned to him and asked,
'I like your personality, where did you get it?'
'Well funny you should ask', he said, turning to the clock,
'Yes, funny you should ask, you see, I got it from a box'.
Tick Tock.
