Sherlock Holmes

Even then, while we were walking
Discussing the weather and things
And such and “oh, did you know?”
And “do you suppose?”
No, no, I nod, but don’t show
I want to be homeless
I want to sneak out of this
Pedestrian conversation
And just, this, in general
Dirtied up and down dressed
Disheveled and distressed
There’s a TV crashing through
A window, but really
It’s identity, infinity, illusion
So the detective must ask questions
Of the gathered, around the body
“Did you know the deceased?”
I looked down, he was virtually
Unrecognisable now, a mess on the
Footpath to be swept away
I looked back up
Did I know the deceased?
Man, you are talking to him

August 2010 Derek Wilson

~ by Derek Wilson on August 9, 2010.

2 Responses to “Sherlock Holmes”

  1. Once again, another terribly poignant poem.

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