Strangers In The Street
Some people park their cars outside my house
and I don’t know who they are.
I never see them arrive or drive off
but they cannot live that far.
This puzzle hints at what I cannot grasp,
tells me that life can be strange.
I remember what Heraclitus said,
the only constancy is change.
Thales said everything is made of water,
which means even solids flow.
No, I do not know where this is going
nor which way the wind may blow.
Everybody has their obligations,
work to some kind of routine.
We are passers-by, strangers in the street,
try to figure what we mean.
Maybe I could act like a private eye,
find out who those people are,
ask them why they cannot park somewhere else,
to pour some juice in the jar.