All of a sudden the computer
is asking me, ‘How many balls
are bouncing?’ They call it
an intelligence test: five
or six red balls are bouncing
wall to wall. I click by
quickly, thinking of
this morning driving down the highway
and out of the corner of my eye
seeing my friend standing
by the bus stop at the shopping centre
a short walk from his home,
standing like he’s just forgotten something
his thin frame and gaunt face
at odds with the sunny weather
and the smart young things waiting
for their bus, dressed
for the office, to ‘take care of business’.
He stands at the curb
in his faded fawn polo neck t-shirt
with a breeze gently flapping
his sports slacks. His white whiskers are ruffled
and his hair is a mess, and as I speed by
on the other side of the highway,
a puzzled hand goes up to his forehead
and he takes a small step.
All comments are very welcome. Just wrote this and am pleased to have
written something after dry weeks of frustration, but am unsure of its
value.
Andrew
|