Like an Edward Hopper

Like an Edward Hopper

Being out of pain by nightfall and taking
a cheap room that overlooks the market,
foldaway or empty stalls, seats for drinking
and the sound of raised voices, clash of laughter
in the warm air – the night’s not over yet –
the sound of a game, wood counters clacking.
Life’s pre-presented in a set, and stripped
down to inessentials like an Edward Hopper:

The glass of wine, the meal I require
become the mind’s main focus – here, or here?
And if I talk to someone, I wonder
Whether what I say is pivotal, or

whether it’s true you call the things, where
what you are could alter what you were.


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