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.