no, i can’t…

as people
crane their necks
in restaurants at
the sound of breaking glass,

some came to hear him
spill his words.
he did not consider them fans,
more like
rubberneckers at an accident.

he asked me why i
wrote, and i
answered him:

i breathe.

i asked him,
in return,
if he would like
a ride to the airport.

no, i can’t,
he said,
i can’t face another
audience, another

instead, we walked down
to the river

where a wet flier
found on the ground said:

“Learn to Speak
So That Everyone Listens”

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

One thought on “no, i can’t…”

  1. Lovely green ..grass
    the tree..has little shade that last
    I want to climb on branch to see
    How comfortable is reality

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