A Pocketful Of Addiction Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

A pocketful of addiction

I read him
-and read him
-read him, again

He is so different
-he is he, no one else
-has stamped signature
-his own words as said of
-Shakespeare
-"Thousands words…"

He talks defines the wind
-as prophet
-to blow hats away
-and branch
-to bring the fruits
-to the hand or the mouth
-and of road
-like a lover…
-waiting for footsteps

And he says:
-of filling the pockets…of kind of addiction…"

I fly on the wings of his words
-into past to get to yesterday
-and meeting old friend of half a century
-and he talks
-a great orator in telling stories
-expands and contracts to suit tastes
-of Lyneham, of Azores to Jersey
-and I am well-aware of the route, places but still
-calm, silent and polite
-am ears and smile
-he goes on
-"Chacha in Pakistan
-…I took a big pail and…"
-explains how filled the bucket with Rupees
-"…and handed to old man…he went and never came…"
-I recall the poet: "…addicted their pocket…"
-feel joy in my smile at them both…