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