Metaphysics Anonymous

A storefront mission in a slum
Where we come together at night
To confess our lifelong addiction
To truth beyond appearances,
Of which there are clues everywhere,

Or so we tell ourselves.
Estranged from family and friends,
Busy tuning pianos on Saturn,
Looking for a moonbeam in a cucumber,
If you were to ask us.

The unreality of us being here,
An additional quandry we are cautioned
Not to bother our heads with
As we wait with eyes lowered
For coffee and cookies to be served.

-Charles Simic