Friday, September 19, 2008

Poetry Friday


I wasn't eavesdropping.
At least, not in any intentional way.
Only in the way that ears overhear birdsong,
or jet engines, or deep-voiced bullfrogs.
I took in the conversation of the next table over
without even noticing it

"You know 'Footprints in the Sand?'" said a voice.
He was a large man,
and he spoke to his friend
with quiet casualness.
He ate a french fry, then continued on:
"I'm having it tattooed on my back."

The thought of it
was still sinking in
to my trip weary mind
when I realized
he was gone

leaving me to wonder if his tattoo
would be only the title,
or all of the text --

either way leaving me amazed

at what some of us
carry on our backs.

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