(Photo by: Dương Trần Quốc)
I’ve never been a reality man
A concrete man
A man of business
Practical things, though important I’m sure
Have never interested me more than a day
And when on the rare occasions I thought such things
I found myself tired easily
And bored rather quickly
My eyes finding the nearest cloud to gaze upon
I’m a dreamer man
Some rude persons would call me a flake
Our worlds too far apart to be understood
For as they count their hours by dollar signs
And dates for meetings, shaking hands in greeting
I’ve always counted moments as waypoints
This one down now onto the next
I live for the soft sighing of trees and the feel of Autumns first chill
For pleasure in the crescendo of a tenor voice of a well-loved song
The emotion of it all
The pleasure of passions first thrill
I’m irresponsible with money, I don’t like social gatherings although social graces come naturally to me
You may be rich, well endowed, with a fine home and linens Egyptian with thousands thread count
But if emotion isn’t there, if passion doesn’t burn you, what good are you, really, to me?
If you can taste what I taste and see what I see
My darling, if you could be so cavalier
Then perhaps your business would be simply a place you go to and not a person you think you ought to be
Yet perhaps I’m all wrong, and not being able to be more wrong, you hold the real meaning of life in your clockwork world
Yet as the world goes by I’ll count the moments not time
For its memories not a paycheck, I seek