He Never Shows Up Poem by Alistair Graham

He is the thinker, thinking
all things, all of the time,
never a minute now for now,
just a head full
of yesterday, tomorrow
a head of what and if,
running to and from,
falling over himself
in the clamour
through the refuse of life,
kicking litter into the air
over rooftops, on a wind
to nowhere.

He never shows up
for the moment,
never lives the journey, the now;
his mind, is a mile in front
then a mile behind and the good life
passes him by.

A no-show, again, today;
a sad goodbye.