Sat for an hour today
making notes about the surrounding guys—
all waiting for our new tires.

Some sat, some paced outside;
two knew each other
conversed in French—
a lot of hand waving,
and I wondered
how often we hear people
speak an unknown tongue
as if they were
in another dimension.

I recalled being at a party
everyone spoke Lithuanian
except me. It came to a head
when someone told a hilarious joke
to the whole crowd except me.
Everyone was laughing
(well, I smiled)
and then stopped.

I have remembered that moment
perfectly for fifty-four years.

The day I killed a joke.

I wished I could talk to those two guys.

But I wasn’t talking to any
of the rest of us either.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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