click on image for weekly poems posted every sunday

poem 26 – 2-15-15


the plump man with the sun-dried tomato face

lurched his way towards the back of the bus

he clasped his 211 steel reserve tall can

and sat across from me

i was engrossed

he radiated realism

he didn’t conceal his alcohol like i used to

there was no brown bag of dismal

his soul case was worn out

it looked like it had gone to war

daily bread was his constant battle

our eyes met

mine were curious and his were warm

the man said, “hello, how are you? how’s your day going?”

with a smile

“good…i’m okay,” i said

“how are you?” i asked

“my body is tired but my mind is young”

with two fingers pressed on his temple

“i’m old,” he added

now that introductions were given

the plump man did not waste time

and went on to tell me about when

his motorbike collided with an automobile

“i woke up to ambulances and a heliocopter!”

he said this in a tone that rang with a tinge of appreciation

“they had to…” he said

as he motioned


he was spewing saliva everywhere

he had excitement

an elation with life

i wish i had

could not be contained

he said, “there was light, i tried to walk into it

but it didn’t let me in, it wasn’t my time yet.”

“i was 25.

i was dead.”

he paused to catch his breath

“when i was 25 i died”

i pulled the cord

perfect timing

i thought

it was my stop

i said my goodbye

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