there was a girl
once
and she gazed upon the man
the outsider
the loner
though some called him ted
it was whispered
in other circles
that his real name had been ganzy
before he’d made a name for himself
the powerful plotted his demise
in low gutteral tones
whilst they cheated at
poker
she
the girl
remembered that he looked like he was
thirty
or maybe forty-six
depending on the light
when he laughed
he was a little boy
he sometimes smiled at her
not wanting anything
other
than to smile at her
he was a man who could not be controlled
by money
or sex
or ambition
anymore
and that made him dangerous to many
still
he continued to travel on the train
back and forth
going nowhere in particular
but down
he sometimes muttered to himself
and to others
striking up a conversation
when his head got too full
the word on the street was he was mad
some said he’d been the victim of a long and cruel war
others said he’d been in the film business
it was no longer important
whatever the truth
some said they’d heard him
on occasion
call out a woman’s name
or perhaps a child’s
but it no longer mattered
anymore
his enemies blamed him
for what they’d done
or hadn’t
now others found it convenient
to follow suit
and they crowded his train
without paying
the girl didn’t much care
because
the truth was in his smile
the one given to her
on a summer’s day
knowing
it would go nowhere
perhaps
she thought
it was the only genuine gift she’d ever received
now
in his death
and misunderstanding
one lonely
flooded night
with a moaning dawn
and screaming sirens
people rushing by the homeless
on their way home
she missed him
and
smiled
and when she smiled
it was like
he
was still
there
(c) Frank Howson 2014
