I sat down and
Waiting in line
As one by one
They all read out their poems
The teenager in the blue or green cardigan
Wasn’t wearing one
He stood up to read his poem
I stood up also
‘Would you mind if I went first?’
He looked and smiled
‘No, not at all’
So I went first and said:
‘It’s days like this
Fresh blue cold
September mornings
I would not swap
For a full pack of cigarettes
Hot black coffee
Warms my stomach
Sets my jelly eyes
Into two, clear-cut crystals
Catch myself
In a quicksilver blue
Passing car and
Damn I’m not bad
Not too bad
Buddha, Allah and some
Holy fathers or various
Mothers of the Earth
May have lived or died
Or never been born
They all now are nothing
But this day is something
Else’
Afterwards the teenager came up to me
‘That was pretty good’ he said
‘Thanks’ I said
‘Do you want my poem from this week?’
‘No thanks’ I said
‘I see - can I have my others back?’
I reached into my pocket
And gave him the two, blue sheets of paper
And watched his face crack
