who are you, old man?

evie-marie Poems

“is it lovely where you live?” the man at the bus stop is talking to me today a change from the polite silence we usually grant each other with i think for a moment “yes. yes i suppose it is” “and do you laugh often?” i smile at the question “i would like to think so” his face, worn and browned like old leather, looked at me curiously “and yet?” i turn to him completely before, we had been sitting side by side on the bench, facing forward as we watched the cars take off down the road but now i turned to face him “i don’t understand” my voice seemed somehow strangled. he smiled, “you are unknowable” i blinked. “yes. yes i suppose i am”