Sisyphus’ chair
A mini Sisyphus
tried and succeeded in climbing
my cerulean rocking chair;
all while pushing a rock the size of a ping-pong ball
which in all fairness it’s a big ball for his tiny size.
So freakishly strong, I thought, and so fast I could barely make out his contour
In the shadow of a night as dark as nero d’avola.
Though I have to say,
I didn’t see the point of retelling his story
once he made it, easily, on his first trip up.
He stayed there victorious, but not bellicose.
Truthfully, he was quite dignified.
I felt like offering him a bowl of soup, or
a cup of instant coffee, but,
I didn’t want to break the scene.
So pompous and joyful, see.
But then,
once he noticed me
noticing him
he was quite embarrassed,
and threw the pin-pong stone down
with such nonchalance
and started pushing it up again,
slowly,
effortfully. A bead of sweat
fell from his back
so small I could have easily missed it.
Given the hour, I didn’t think much of it.
Doesn’t the virtuous violinist
play his song more than once?
And doesn’t the teacher tell
the same story of Sisyphus
every year to zealous (or not) students?
With a sigh, I made my case to my partner,
but she didn’t think twice
about just rolling to the other side.
Once more he pushed the rock up
and then I knew
the magnanimous thing to do
was to copy her and give him a rest.
