Gifts that are 'immeasurable'

 

“The gifts that one receives for giving are so immeasurable that it is almost an injustice to accept them.” – Rod McKuen

Born in Oakland, CA on April 29, 1933 McKuen was one of the best-selling poets in the United States during the 1960s and '70s.  By the time of his death in 2015 he had produced more than 30 books of poetry and hundreds of recordings of spoken word poetry, film soundtracks and classical music, earning two Academy Award nominations and one Pulitzer nomination along the way.  For Saturday’s Poem, here is McKuen’s,                                     

Twenty

People riding trains are nice

they offer magazines

and Chocolate-covered cherries,

they offer details you want most to know

                                      about their recent operations.

If I’d been riding home to you

I could have listened with both ears

but I was on my way away.

 

Across from me

there was a girl crying

                                    (long, silent tears)

while an old man held her hand.

It was only a while ago you said,

Take the seat by the window,

                                     you’ll see more.

 

I filled the seat beside me

with my coat and books.

I’m antisocial without you.

I’m antiworld and people too.

 

Sometimes I think

I’ll never ride a train again.

At least not away.