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Open Poetry #37
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Dragot
Junior Member
since 2006-04-30
Posts 11


0 posted 2006-05-04 03:17 PM


Alzheimer

The man stood at the corner
of 1st and Birch. He arrived
everyday at precisely 1:30. I knew
because, like some perverse voyeur,
I always watched him from my window.
I gave him a name, “Gramps,” though
a “Great” suited him more.
He dressed in a grey suit, the slacks covered
with patches sown over patches.
He always wore a felt hat with a blue feather.
Whenever people walked by, he took
the hat off with one hand
and stroked his beard with the other.
I invented dialogue for him,
since I never heard the words he said.
“Evening Madame, would you care to go to a Jazz Club?”
One time, I thought I read his lips mouth the word
“Home.”
Most of the people he talked to walked by without a word
or acknowledgement. Some paused long enough
to share a word or two or three, but always walked away
(Sometimes at increased pace).
I stood beside my window on the seventh of June,
my clock read 1:28.
I waited ten minutes, and then
I closed the shades.

Dragot ©2005

© Copyright 2006 Dragot - All Rights Reserved
Klassy Lassy
Member Elite
since 2005-06-28
Posts 2187
Oregon
1 posted 2006-05-04 04:31 PM


Minutes come and go... but a moment is forever..
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