Timewaster
‘Sorry’
the man on the train says
‘for asking, but
are you a writer?
I’m a writer.
Sci-fi fantasy.
I don’t believe in happy
endings, such a cliché.
In my book, everybody dies
after three
thousand pages.’
‘Sorry,
sorry to disturb you
I’ve been
writing my book for ten years
since I was sixteen.
Unfortunately
I’m off to work, insurance
for my sins.’
I ask him when he writes
and he says he hasn’t written anything
for five years.
His eyes roll
little wet pebbles
his eyes gape
little fish pleading
with me not to say the bleeding
obvious –
if you haven’t written for five years
you’re not a writer.
‘Sorry’
he says
‘I’ll let you get on’
He watches me make notes
for five minutes, and says
‘that seems like a lot
of work
for a poem.’
Kirsten Luckins 