Night
Travels
I
wash clothes
in
a small room
that
was coupled
to
my childhood
I
compliment the new owner
on
the white cupboards
that
I don't remember
from
years ago
Back
and forth
from
the patio
to
the kitchen entry
I
see the two dogs
who
meant the most to me
the
white Great Pyrenees
and
the St. Bernard
who
hangs around my leg
begging
for the touch
I
give him in these clouds
I
go no further inside
and
make a call
to
the Frenchman
who
lived with us
after
his years fighting
in
Algeria
I
hear his voice
saying
that he can't stay
on
the line for long
when
an insistent woman
calls
my name
in
a tone that wakes me
and
I'm left with the feeling
I
shall be here again
Barry
G. Wick
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