I sometimes smile at passers by,
And occasionally they wave back,
But usually not.
Last week I saw a baby in a cot.
His name was Friday,
And he was dressed in black.
I waved at him and he waved back.
I noticed in his cot a large crack,
And I imagined him falling to the floor,
And smashing his skull on the ground,
And I could see all the blood spurting from his veins,
And spraying in my face,
So I lifted him from the cot
And lay him on the bed,
Which had a blanket on it that was red.
He smiled and then I left,
And headed for the street.

I was cold and I felt old
And weak.
A young woman smiled at me,
But I couldn’t speak,
And so she passed me by,
And I wanted to cry,
But I couldn’t for some reason or other.

I kept on walking,
And stopped when I heard two people talking:
There names were Fred and Bill.
One was nearly dead, the other seriously ill.
I decided to join them on the corner of the street.
They gave me some food to eat:
Stale bread and garlic,
Which made me feel sick,
So I lay down on the path,
And when it started to rain I got a free bath.
The two men started to laugh,
And then they walked off.

I just lay there, still,
And watched the people walking by.
One person said: “What’s up with him?”
Another said: “Oh nothing -
He’s just waiting for the train;
Can’t you feel his pain?”
The other said: “No I can’t -
That is his problem, not mine,
And - look at the time -
It’s time to go.”
They left,
And then it started to snow.


© 2000 Matt Everett