He sits alone
at a perfect table
staring straight ahead
while groups of people
in multicolored clothes
compare stories
He does his time
sheltered by unkept hair
and plain clothes
Colorful things talk
like flowers around him
while his beard
cringes
quietly.
I move through the groups
of sports, social media, and gossip
to the silent man
with missing teeth
who grins.
I speak first. Then he says…
“I have short-term memory loss
and I won’t remember your name.”
“Really?”
I smile
because I can tell him anything.
We talk about life and death and everything in between,
but then it’s time to go
and I walk back through the flowers
without fragrance
Stopped by a beauty
And we talk
I look at my multicolored clothes
“Something smells funny,” she says.
“That would be my fragrance.”
beautiful poem
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This has a surreal quality about it that I like.
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