Wherever Understanding Remains

next door sits an old manAn old man sitting on a bench
making no sense
not in living as much
as by talking
accent thick as foreign gravy

Carefully I listen
but every word I know
leads to five I don’t
and he piles up the ideas
building his argument

he is animated
and excited
a bird with a new worm
tugging at it by inch
ready to swallow whole

there are pieces
falling into no place
a story with motion
but no beginning
or argument

airplanes are flying
in his imagination
along the coast
shooting down
balloons and butterflies

should I be thrilled
or maybe amused
or simply knowing
in a way reflecting
what he thinks I am

a raving lunatic, maybe
or an Albert Einstein
but I wouldn’t know
any more than I’m doing
is my best to appear

So it is time to part
and he thinks I agree
that who is what and where
but I’m still wondering
where we’ve been going

Wherever Understanding Remains

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