"YOU ARE THE MUSIC WHILE THE MUSIC LASTS."

'Ah, did you once see Eliot plain,
And did he stop and speak to you?'

Well...no...not actually.
Well...kinda...sorta.

Crossing the street
in a sudden shower

amidst the trill of bicycle bells
the honk honk of motor cars.

"Oi! Watch where
y'are going love!"

And there stood Eliot
frozen in time

balanced on his toes
crossing and not crossing

a bit like an undecided
procrastinated Prufrock.

He looked exactly
like himself

like a photo come alive
an annonymous bowler hatted man.

An unused umbrella
perched on the crook of an arm

He appeared both calm
and alarmed.

As if a poem had
crossed his mind

interrupting his crossing
among the plop of large raindrops.

I wanted to quote his words to him
to say somehow I know his mind.

And for all of that second
he was mine.

As if I owned the very
essence of him.

I took him by the arm.
Reminded him he had an umbrella.

It was as if I was talking to
a somewhat forgetful God.

"Mmm yes...mmm
thank you my dear!"

'How strange it seems, and new!'
as Mr. Browning once remarked.