At That Wrong Hour Poem by RIC BASTASA

sometimes our
ways cross
and we are
surprised yet
in our
reservations
we do not show
what others
expect

we pretend that
it is normal
we hold our tongues
we put our
hands inside our
pockets

you tell me someone
is dead
at the wrong hour
of his life

i do not ask any
name
and that is enough

who cares about
your dead?
i have mine too.

it is sad
it is normal
and so we
pretend no more
about
what we feel
at that
wrong hour.