I’ve forgotten his name, or perhaps I never knew it,
because he spoke in a forced whisper and sported
a white gauze that covered his neck like a clinical cravat,
and we had long conversations that I pretended to understand,
by nodding enthusiastically at what I thought were the right moments
because I liked his face, and the way he tapped you on the shoulder
to make a point, while his terrier sat gently at his feet and smiled.
And once he asked me something about balloons, eager for a reply,
and I said yes, and the next day he came into the back bar with a
brown paper bag containing the largest mushrooms I had ever seen.
John H Davies
7th April 2011
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