A Way to Pretend
At the end of the day he gets in his car,
And drives it away but not very far.
He goes to the rich and elite community,
The one in which he finds immunity.
He drives it around waving to all,
Never making a sound, a yell or call.
He doesn't know any of the people,
It's just a show, like the top of a steeple.
A way to pretend that he's known here,
With many a friend, to give good cheer.
This man who hides his emotions stonily,
Who has lost his pride, because he is lonely.
Hey Mister, can you lend me a moment or two,
Make believe before the end, we're friends, me and you.
Fred Guymon 16JUL98
Reflections on a friend