1.16.2008
Leading Man
The bad guy turned out to be
good. He used to stare at you at parties.
The night you were jumped
by racists, he sprang from the shadows,
wrapped you in blankets.
You woke up nestled in cushions in your bed.
He is a man of dreams,
sometimes young with a black beard,
sometimes climbing steps
in a cement stairwell.
No surprise to find him in a book.
In reality he was a prickly, painful man,
who couldn't hear his own name
when you called it. All he every did
for you was stop on a landing once and
turn around, smiling.
The bad guy turned out to be
good. He used to stare at you at parties.
The night you were jumped
by racists, he sprang from the shadows,
wrapped you in blankets.
You woke up nestled in cushions in your bed.
He is a man of dreams,
sometimes young with a black beard,
sometimes climbing steps
in a cement stairwell.
No surprise to find him in a book.
In reality he was a prickly, painful man,
who couldn't hear his own name
when you called it. All he every did
for you was stop on a landing once and
turn around, smiling.
