No One’s Fool
weathered and dark,
a listening figure
in an old worn coat,
seated and looking down.
Give me a book,
leave it open and heavy
in my lap, held fast
by arthritic thumbs.
On my shoulder
place a raucous bird,
a crow that finds
me amusing.
Make a good thing
of my shoes,
a record of the miles.
Include a cane
at your discretion:
I might need one
as time goes by.
Glasses on my nose
and too much hair,
a temperamental beard
that seems to grow.
Let the world know
I was glad to be alone,
and no one’s fool
except my own.
May 9, 2006
Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author
Main Page
Author’s Note
Background
Notebook
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Interviews
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let’s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Conversation
E-mail & Parting Thoughts
Flippantly Answered Questions