Dreaming Again





In a hot Greek hotel he sat

Watching the sun situate itself upon the crowd

gathering as the noon day whistle blew

He thought…

He knew the old fisherman standing near his boat

hat worn with time tilted over a forehead darkened by the noonday sun

his nets dragging like his bones…

He watched…

while the young men called out each to the other 

sorting their days catch

laughing their brash laugh

gawking at the women whose breasts glowed with the sea

He lusted…

It was their youth he wanted

all the while despising his decoration of the sun and the worship he once gave it

He called…

and the sea and the waiter mockingly filled his vitriolic requests

as he dreamed on







excerpted from Poetry & Postscripts by Barbara Tangen-Ballantine 


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