Oracle

When I was young I called up this one Nobelist. He told
Me he’d become quite blind and, anyhow, was now too old

To read young poets’ stuff but asked me things, greatly polite
And in the end assured me we shared so much more beside

A remnant of an Andalusian accent, for he’d grown
Up fatherless like me, he told me on that telephone.

And had we brought up privacies, he’d have discovered we
Had, young and old, even the same sort of sensuality.

But all this talking was to just no practical avail
Except this tacit lesson: Buddy, do prepare to fail!

The young one comes to nothing while the old one simply dies –
That’s what I’ve learned by calling someone with a Nobel prize.

October 14, 2017