by Marc Carver


The man stands at the bar
he tries to talk to everyone who comes to the bar
but most ignore him
I don’t know how long he has been there
but I am guessing a while
he goes to the toilet three times in ten minutes
again he looks around for a friend
he is not young
not young enough to make friends
but old enough
for everyone to walk past him
I know better
that is why I sit by myself
with my beer
and no one


I wrote a poem once
it was a long time ago
I guess that makes me a poet
but I have a strange feeling I was a poet
a long time before that.

The wind is strong today
and if I tore this poem from the pad it would fly and fly
I would never see it again
just like my first poem about that big fish and my pain


people come and they go
not many stay
the ones you want to stay
are always the ones to leave
You can sit with the stillness
until it almost makes you crazy.
And still they come and go
days turn into months and months years
seasons pick up speed
grow and grow like doubts in your mind.
they all mean something
they all mean everything
everything and nothing

About the Author:

Marc Carver