I knew a man named Mr. Klein,
Though I wouldn’t call him a friend of mine.
The way he looked he seemed quite kind,
Asked how he was, he'd mutter, "Just fine."
He was medium height and overweight,
Wore a jacket and tie that looked out of date.
If he had something to say he'd hesitate,
Like a man who appeared resigned to his fate.
Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, sing me a song,
About times you remember and all you've known.
Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, recite me a poem,
About the people that you loved long ago.
Mr Klein to me seemed sort of sad,
I'd see him in the park with a paper bag.
Feeding the squirrels then cleaning his hand,
Trying to decipher the graffiti tags.
They say he was a lawyer, and a teacher too,
Had travelled from Jerusalem to Katmandu.
Wrote sonnets, villanelles and even haiku,
But couldn't understand why all the tattoos.
Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, sing me a song,
About times you remember and all that you've known.
Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, write me a poem,
About the people that you loved a long time ago.
And then one day Mr. Klein wasn't seen,
No one asked about where he'd been.
How he was feeling, or why he left the scene,
Almost like he existed inside a screen.
I searched for him, he was on my mind,
Wondered why I didn't give him more of my time.
When I had the chance and I was in my prime,
I keep thinking about everyone he left behind.
Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, sing me a song,
About times you remember and all that you've known,
Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, recite me a poem,
About the people that you loved a long time ago.
2 comments:
A.M. Klein?
A character like him was certainly on my mind.
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