literature

The Man in the Street

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Literature Text

The Man in the Street
by Megan Rose Gedris

Fred is standing in the street
And he's looking through the window
Of a quiet little cafe
As he masticates his nails.

He is thinking of a woman
With whom he has no real connection
But he bagged up all her groceries
While she listened to his tales.

He is barely even breathing,
She reminds him of a lover
Who once slept in bed beside him
In his house on Third and Lane.

He cannot forget her face,
He transposes it on everything.
He can no longer think of
A time when he was still sane.

She left him for a painter
And she took the puppy with her
Now he's eating ramen noodles
In his run down one-room flat.

As his fingers strum the strings
Of his five-string beat-up banjo
He remembers how she loved him
And her soft red velvet hat.

She was always writing letters
To her relatives and friends
And they talked of getting married
In perhaps a year or so.

But a year has come and gone
And he's feeling quite depressed.
He would like to leave his flat
But he's got nowhere to go.

Now the woman in the cafe
Is feeling quite uneasy
She senses his eyes on her
From behind the window glass.

Her lover's late to see her
And she's getting rather angry.
She is reading a newspaper
Waiting for the time to pass.

She orders a hot chocolate
And she goes to put a quarter
In the jukebox in the corner
Where a girl is mutely smoking.

She is contemplating leaving
When she spots the ragged man.
When he tells her that he loves her,
She thinks he must be joking.

His eyes are gently pleading
For a spark of recognition
Of his service bagging groceries
Two Saturdays ago.

But she's late to catch her train,
She is going to see her mother
Whom she hasn't seen in ages
So she has to tell him no.

Now he's standing on the sidewalk
All alone with no one with him
Watching as her silhouette is
Shrinking as she walks away.

He goes back to his apartment
Where he takes a lukewarm shower,
Climbs into a bed, and in his
Head, reviews his awful day.

The woman from the cafe
Is sitting in the train
And she does a crossword puzzle
As she thinks about her mum.

She is angry at her lover
And she wishes he were dead
For the awful way he stood her up.
Her hands are going numb

From twisting and untwisting
Her purse strap around her fingers
As she seethes in irritation
And the train keeps chugging on.

She takes out a bar of chocolate
And she melts it in her mouth
Never thinking for a moment
That her lover could be gone.

He had gotten so dejected
At the thought of an old girlfriend
And he'd parked his SUV
On the train tracks up ahead.

He had bought a gun on Friday
And he played his favorite song
On the radio as he
Put a bullet in his head.

The train is speeding onward
And the woman's gone to sleep
And she never will awaken
Before she winds up dead,

When the train derails and kills
Nineteen women and six children.
But unknown, even to herself
Her last thoughts are of Fred
And they dance on crystal sunbeams
And they dine on tea and bread
In the space inside her head.
Random narrative poem.
© 2005 - 2024 rosalarian
Comments5
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beautifullyoblivious's avatar
jesus, this is gorgeous. it's twisted and unexpected and poetic and fully wonderful. i love!