the soft balloon

behind me in the safeway café
a man spends his days
talking to an imaginary god

i listen to him
tracing his words with
my plastic fork

shoveling shrimp and
black olives into my mug

this morning he
is especially lucid
measuring his orations
with mumbled verses

calling out the police
and the cleaning lady
digressing into a magical
realm of personable
incantation

did anyone know
if the sun might die
when he waved a hand
and cried die sun?

had i heard of
sasquatch and d.b. cooper
a wild pair north of here
roaming the woods?

he was quiet for
a moment
reflecting on the chime
of his words

you do not know
he said and
fell silent again
before lifting himself up
like a soft balloon and
drifting outdoors

to talk to
another god
another stranger
in the rain


TS