Douglas and numbers
It was
a Friday,
The twenty third of May.
Resigned
that meeting and faraway
my home.
Time,
A machine
elephantine.
Faring
a flying weekend,
Flashing fast,
Braying me in between.
I walked through
a bustling hall.
Seen them all
good follows,
Fixing numbers
on their coats.
Waved at Douglas,
Happy always!
Drinking,
I guess,
A cup of coffee.
He was far.
He ran towards me
and we drove
in his car.
We sought
the distant airport,
Passed desolate counties,
Labeled and numbered.
I like him
Douglas.
Wrestled at him a smile,
When, through his
rear view mirror,
I marked curious eyes.
Then I reckoned
large trees,
Oaks and redwoods.
I gazed beyond
the Cadillac's window,
All I saw,
A dusky range,
Cloudy shadows,
They be numbers.
Douglas,
A good man.
Reminded me
of a famous actor,
Who drove that chary lady.
She was
a good teacher.
Douglas,
I yelled:
Will I see you again?
I hope so.
He laughed.
Voicing one,
Truly the same,
A laughter
of that famous actor.
He discerned
stress and pain
on my face.
He regarded me,
Bearing down
on my forehead,
Hunting painkillers
in the briefcase.
Caressing me
in his usual warmth,
He shouted:
I will relieve you
Son,
Just relax!
Let us seek
a casual song,
Flex them
dormant knacks.
Okay,
I answered.
Just like magic!
He aimed:
Look!
There she goes,
A cheerful cow
Grazing now,
I said.
Near two
young oxen I see.
He raised
a right arm.
Frozen,
I told him.
Near,
May be,
Three green ploughs,
Resting or jammed.
Wide before them,
Indolent meadows,
Scores of rustic barns,
I see.
Alas!
Ten besieged horses,
He chuckled.
We pass them by,
As we defy
speed limits and I,
He laughed,
I am counting.
Peoples and houses,
Creatures and things.
There it went,
Until final departure.
Embracing him,
I aspired:
Hope
I see you again.
Then I rushed
to catch a jumbo plane.
Floating over
the Atlantic,
I felt a migraine
retreating,
When I cherished
and half a sleep,
Those simple rhymes
they were deep.
rhymes of
an ancient man,
Who kept in the dreams,
Bright feathers
on his shoulders.
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