Vacation Alias

Vacation Alias

The old man asked me for my name.

For some reason I said, “Marshall.”

“As in Marshall Dill Pickle?” he said,

Producing a finger gun and

The playful sound of shooting.

I thought, I guess I will be Marshall

For this guy, not that I minded.

But, Marshall Marsh did not seem

Like a good combination.

Luckily, I never saw him again.

Both of us being from different places

Far away from each other.

This entry was posted in conversations, my life, poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s