Mysterious Proportions

Vitruvian Man puts down his arms.
It’s late in the day, why not relax?
Modern Man agrees.

He can’t quite catch his reflection
In the TV screen. Even his iced tea
Won’t depict his look of concern.

There’s an airplane overhead,
A dog barking in the lazy summer
Breeze through the sunflowers.

The spoon bender on the talk show
Pauses in mid ratchet to listen
To something no one else can hear.

It’s in the empty streets. The galvanized trashcan
Lids rock gently, but that’s not it.
An abandoned Mexican jumping bean

On the dashboard of a grain truck, perhaps?
The gospel choir at the Baptist church
In a converted bank building?

Vitruvian Man wants to help locate
The mystery. He’s pointing in two
Directions at once, naked as always.