Kit Kelen #393 - I set out to find my readers

393

I set out to find my readers

always knew they were out there somewhere

(a boutique group, albeit)

looked under stones, all turned already

I looked through a glass and darkly

(poets lurking there in wait)

I burst into classrooms and churches

as any masked gunman would do

but no, they were reading some boring guff

bank balances and excel sheets

often enough

they hymned themselves off

I combed the libraries and schools

all at the shelves of 'practical interest'

thinking ahead to meaningless toil

out in the playgrounds

anthems were sung

all I could do was jot notes

then up the garden path

among the hearts and minds

even those very few who read poetry

each had something classic to hand

you had to be dead to get in

tried radio

but they wanted either to sleep

or to bang their heads

only the news between

so I took to teaching

wrote the textbook

I made them read my stuff

but it wasn't the same thing

the soul may not exist

but you'll notice when it's gone

I had all but given up

trying to find the genuine reader

when one day I saw stranger on a train

holding my book open

(oh and I'd tried trains and buses before

I'd had my poem up on the walls there

at an angle no strap dangler could hope to avoid

but it was advertising to them)

now here was a stranger

reading my book

rhythm of the wheels go round

rhythm of the tracks

I could see the words getting out

tangling with a willing mind

was that sub-vocalisation I caught?

it might have been a lip twitch, still...

of course it was tempting

just to strike up a conversation

after all it was clear

we had something in common

but this stranger's face

was a fascinating study

a poem in itself

how could I break my own spell?

I took a vow of silence then

I had to resist this temptation

(and I've stuck with this

ever since)

I had to get off at my stop

the train went on

and that stranger

who must have found enlightenment

has never been seen again

such little things

we let sustain us

in this our chosen life