Special People
I talk to him about himself;
He ‘yes-es’ with, “I get it, yes” –
He yes’s me to death
Preferring really, stories stored.
It challenges inventiveness
To get him to mature.
Famous once upon a prime,
Drinking all that time
And smoking.
Now… a shut-in,
He leaves bow untouched,
The bass against a wall;
He’s got his memories and fantasies
And loosened teeth, some royalties,
Stomach problems.
Looking out the window
Of his ground floor flat.
Is ‘where he’s at’.
I carry on our te
tes a têtesTo see what, when and if…
© Special People 8.25.2008
Small Stories Book; Special People, Special Occasions; Vaguely About Music;
Arlene Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 