Chasing the Story
A poem
Not in the habit of inventing,
Richard wrote the facts on merit.
The town hadn’t seen much stirring
Since ’68, a free-thinking alligator on main street.
Forty-four in the shade, centigrade.
Climate change’s a real you-know-what, darlin’
Unless you are inside OTT cinema, streamin’,
White linen, iced glass, Mustang and all.
He waited by the trimmed hedges, under the raintree,
Salt running down his lips and the waistband
Turning wet down to his hips.
One limo, two limo, three limo.
Shades of night on eyes, stiff backs, fast pace.
It’s who’s between the suits that matters most
Miss the wood for the trees and you won’t find a trace.
Now Richard had, in his sweaty palms, the ball.
The facts? Slim at best. Merits? Immense.
Nothing personal in writing a story.
Really, there’s no pretense.
kaustuv ghosh 2024
