Man in Market Town <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />It is a big door shiny white and wide, isn't <br /> <br />used much, twice a day when he goes out <br /> <br />shopping and when returning; if anyone <br /> <br />rings the door bell it is usually the gas man. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />There are times when he opens the door at <br /> <br />night going to a bar or to buy love bought <br /> <br />and consumed in cheap hotel rooms; a need <br /> <br />that leaves him ashamed and gloomy. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />There is a knock on the door of memories, he <br /> <br />gets up look out of the window, it's a brilliant <br /> <br />day and he hears eager steps on pavements, <br /> <br />like someone dancing Argentinean tango. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />To be old in November is not so bad, he tells <br /> <br />himself, he can be in and play Elvis's old vinyl <br /> <br />records on his gramophone, but to be seventy <br /> <br />a day in May, man, that makes the soul cry.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-for-some/
