When I got on the train
the man was talking
and I knew he would still be talking
when I got off in fifty minutes.
He was mostly talking about Bob.
“Yeah he’s okay, but, you know…”
he said in a way that only people who are used to talking, talk.
He is still talking now
Perhaps he never stops as long as he has someone to listen.
My mother would say
he could talk the hind legs off a donkey.
This guy could talk the legs off of thousands.
As I thought about this, I took another look at him
and pictured him in a field
talking to a donkey with others queued behind
and a big pile of donkeys’ legs all piled up.
Some days there is nothing to write about
not a damn thing
nothing but black clouds
and the sound of nothing
no one to talk to
no thing you want to do
not even the chance of a little drink to kill the day before it begins
just go on forever
like a leak
from a tap
THE SAÔNE AND RHONE
two ducks and a seagull sit on the quay where the two rivers meet.
They don’t talk to each other
but they seem to be saying something
and it seems to be important
but whatever it is
it doesn’t involve me.
Banner image: Thibdx, Wikimedia Commons