The Undeniable Pressure of Existence
Patricia Fargnoli
I saw the fox running by the side of the road
past the turned-away brick faces of the condominiums
past the Citgo gas station with its line of cars and trucks
and he ran, limping, gaunt, matted dull haired
past Jim's Pizza, past the Wash-O-Mat,
past the Thai Garden, his sides heaving like bellows
and he kept running to where the interstate
crossed the state road and he reached it and he ran on
under the underpass and beyond it past the perfect
rows of split-levels, their identical driveways
their brookless and forestless front yards,
and from my moving car, I watched him,
helpless to do anything to help him, certain he was beyond
any aid, any desire to save him, and he ran loping on,
far out of his element, sick, panting, starving,
his eyes fixed on some point ahead of him,
some possible salvation
in all this hopelessness, that only he could see.
I have a serious crush on this poem. It is absolutely one of the best things I have read of late. As usual, I will disclaimer here that I almost certainly will be unable to articulate why. But I am struck by its central image--a little fox literally on his last legs running like he has this purpose, this drive that will take him beyond all the crap. I'm sure the fox could be any of us--exhausted by the hopelessness that we've created in our little suburban worlds, but somehow determined to find something better, no matter what it takes to get there even though there could be nonexistent. Or perhaps it is existent but it is the end of existence.
Eeeee. I don't know but this poem is real and scary but also perfect. I love it.
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