Who was the man who sat last night <br />at the table next to ours, <br />trying to impress, but quite <br />as fallen as Trade Center Towers? <br />He seemed to me to be a ghost <br />of who he once had been, deluding <br />himself his life was not now toast, <br />without a chance of any new <br />beginnings. What thoughts ran through his mind <br />while he was surely planning to <br />seduce his date? What could she find <br />attractive in a man thus basking <br />in his past glory who throughout <br />his monologue avoided asking <br />a single question to find out <br />what made her tick. I toast him. He <br />was surely a well-grounded hero, <br />yet I am wrong top think that she <br />saw in his face a ground called zero? <br /> <br />12/8/05<br /><br />gershon hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ground-zero/
