Saturday, February 21, 2009

Greyfriars Bus Station Friday Night Late


i left all my friends behind
for the promise of a woman
that she never meant to keep.
now scrolling through my phone
i can't find anyone
who'd be awake this late, or understand.

i've been alive a thousand years.
and through them all ungrateful,
sorry for myself. no wonder
everyone i know's got someone,
and i'm talking to this bare white page.


four teenage girls beside me,
accosted by an old drunk
who talks to them in riddles.
tells them he knows something that they don't.

"what do you know?"
one perfect girl demands.

and i think," time."


Sharon Auberle said...

good one, Fred, I like this one a lot...
"time was talkin', I just wasn't listening..." (old Peter, Paul & Mary lyric)
but then do we EVER listen when we're young?

Fred Abbey said...

I didn't!Thanks Mimi. I'm so flattered you're a visitor here.

Everyone, read Sharon's poetry. It's wise and beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Wonderful work, Fred. Yes, we begin to know time, but often look the other way way we meet in a public place.