Tell Me About Willy Loman

When the dusty rose moves south
Evening matters
With gloomy patterns
Make for raindrops shine
On the tarmac below
Heavy boots
Move on
Move forward
Make metres
As they say
In the military
Make us laugh
Make us cringe
Fabulous boredom
With tiny spider nets
Blind our eyes at dawn
Against the sun
Within a blink of a whisper
But soon
In hurricane droppings
Without sadness
Without pain
Time moves backwards
Tell me about
Willy Loman
Has he been a great man?
With visions?
With plans?
Did he move forward?
Did he have eyes in his back?
When we notice the drama
On our way
In front of us
Look at those eyes
Of the fluffy lama
But that’s just a dream
As they seem
To move on
From boredom
From unconsciousness
The theatre on stage
Turn on the page
Page after page
Don’t stop
Don’t even read
Don’t stop
Don’t stop
Tell me about
Willy Loman
Has he been
A great man?
With glasses so dark
You couldn’t even see
His eyes
Filled with dark sadness
With purple pain
He filled the room
With laments and sorrow
Tell me about him
Tell me about the man
So he won’t be
Will he?
Will he be remembered?
Or just the man
He used to be?
Tell me about
Willy Loman
The man
Not the vision
You are silent?
Lost for words?
You can’t remember
Anything true
Just lies
False assumptions
The hidden truth
Hasn’t to be for people
To know
Just tell me about
Willy Loman.

    © Dominik Alexander / 2019

scriptorium_header_072 Death of a Salesman_b

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