You will know
Where I have been
As you also have shared
Where I am going
With your friends and our friends
Is there any discrimination
For instance I do know
You have told of the rent I am to pay
Is this fair
That my life enters the public domain
Without question or thought
As to my feelings
It is too too late now
What is spoken cannot be rescinded
All I can hope is that due to its unimportance
It will soon be forgotten
Step by step
Long arms
Hunched shoulders
A Breton T-shirt
Beneath his canvas jacket
It is as if
He was looking at me
As I was walking
But he passed by
Without saying a word
The fishing man too
Is also all alone
Yet he does appear
To have a purpose and a method
For his support of solitude
Should I have lunch
How late was breakfast
Isn’t my body supposed to tell me
All that I need to know
Yet today it doesn’t seem to want to
I am not
Or have not turned out to be
Who I thought I was
Even if I helped to forge
Your misapprehension
Yes I did write poetry
But that was for many reasons
Too many to talk about now
Even if we could
But of course now there is no reason
Another beach café filled
With older people such as you and I
This time the sand is brown
And supports a fisherman with rod and line
Fishing in the anything but azure blue sea
The very place where a few summers ago
Daughter, grandsons and you
Talked to another fisherman
Who told the young boys he was after shark
But I said, not to believe all that you are told
A curve of light
But not yet a smile
A share of the cup
But not yet any glow
He crosses his arms
Leans forwards
To rest them on the table
But shows little satisfaction
Am I intruding
Does he deserve peace
To contemplate on
Whatever are his troubles
Slowly he puts on his kagoul
And places his North Face bag
Over his head, as will I
Similarly do, in a few minutes
