Paterson
Paterson,
Inside a bus a man sees his thoughts sitting and standing.
His thoughts alight and scatter -- like a drop of rain on a sediment.
He sees the regularly furnished houses, the trimmed trees,
and the loud gossips from beggars across the street through
the pale window.
In altum, he wonders how such semblance compliments himself:
a man sitting beside a pool with a tobacco between his lips,
a lady's smile after her lover's kiss, a neighbor waiting for the
postman, and the poor lad on a swing -- how beautiful can silence be?
But home is where my thoughts would go when hunger becomes a muse
-- to linger around the backyard playing cheese, or pin-pong or
entertain a gossip on my grandma's bed.
...if not, watch how
sadly these leaves
falls on loneliness.
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