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every time he sits at his desk

a question comes to his mind

like a charging bleeding bull

what to write again

what to say to him

what to say to them    

what to say to you.


and he thinks to

write about the hubbub

outside his winder window

where dark bony-faced and worry-eyed men

wearing dusty and torn ponchos

stand on street corners

or lean a shoulder on cold walls

or lie on makeshift mattresses in banks’ gates

covered in stiff colored bleached blankets.


and he thinks to write

about the thick darkness

in the hallway and the January draft

swirling around in his feet

like a long-lost ghost. 


and he thinks

about the drinks, he shouldn’t have drunk today

about the thoughts, he shouldn’t have thought today

about the words, he shouldn’t have said today. 


about the bickering going on

between a couple next door

reminding him of his bickering

that went on with his first love

since then many years wore on

but time and again

the blue-eyed love comes to his dreams

and murmurs things

and when he wakes curled up under the covers

with a pillow in his arms

his heart aches a little.


and he thinks to write

about all these thoughts and the way

they have been messing with his mind lately

keeping him awake.


what is that his woozy mind

don’t understand tonight?

“look out the window

and you might see.”

here they go again

the voices

falling in his face like

a night rain drizzle.


and he asks his mind

where do we go from here?

why does it have to be this way?

but sullen silence it is. 


he is hunched over his typewriter

thinking of what to write

thinking of the wondering minds

thinking of the sleepless eyes

thinking of the tears on pillows

listening to the couple next door

bickering on and on

as the time presses on him

from all sides.


now his feet begin to ache

so does his back

his neck

his head.


he stands up slowly

and as he reaches for a hand

to kill the desk light

his gaze gets reeled out 

by a book by Ernest Hemingway

Men Without Women, the book says.

is it possible?


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