The Conversationalist.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

he can strike a note on the side of the glass
with his fork and then begin to sing or hum

an old tune and retain the lyrics in his mind
and move on till the last line

he talks about it without any emotion involved
nothing personal anyway he keeps on murmuring

this is pure recollection, those tea and dates when
he had a good time in the desert with her when

what surrounds them are the uninterested sands
when the sun keeps the heat as they cool themselves

inside the car as their lips keep burning as
he keeps on licking what does not hurt

he is a good conversationalist who talks alone
responsive to the demands of his solitude.