One Single Impression: Talisman

Mr. Talisman.
Who is the tallest man you ever knew?
Mr. Talisman was eight feet
seven inches so he said
when he wasn't joking
which was most often.
Or else he would say he didn't know
as his altimeter was broken and
Medicare wouldn't pay for having it fixed.
Mr. Talisman, they said,
(I may call him Tall Man from hereon in)
played basketball in his younger days..
Because of the notoriety,
yes, he was notorious,
we all dreaded to hear him coming.
For sure it would be an hour or more
before we could get away.
.
The kids all called him
Talis'boy back then.
That is why
I have come
to call him Talisman.

I will tell a tale about
this Mr. Talisman,
seems he liked his ale.
Adding to his ale problem
he would attend frequent
drinking parties. Now that
could never have been good for him.

The next day after
one such party
Tall Man was working off his hangover
by taking a walk in the sunshine.
He walked through the park,
the one that ends on top of the little hill..
Our Tall Man was in no shape
this morning to climb the hill
so he leisurely strolled on the promenade
which went round and round
ending nowhere.

On that walk,
that sun shiny day,
he passed a bench
where two little ladies were talking away.
Like they were solving
the town's problems,
they were so serious in their talks were they.
Others said it was pure gossip
they were telling.

One of the ladies stopped Tall Man
and modestly, sheepishly,
and shyly asked
if he ever told his age.
"Why no, I don't. I never tell anyone my age."
Then the other lady said
she thought they could
guess his age correctly if he would follow
a few of their simple rules.

Tall Man thought this over very briefly,
then he said, "I'm game." So the ladies
had this man turn around three times,
drop his drawers, and pat himself
on the behind five times.
After this he was to stand up
and they would guess his age.

Having done
all of these ladies' silly requests,
Tall Man stood up and said,
"So, what is my age?"

"Eighty-three," both of them chimed
at the same time, "you are eighty-three years old."
"Oh, you are so clever, I would think
no one could tell my age that way."

"It isn't the way that's important,
we just wanted to see you do
a few more of those gyrations.
You do remember?
You were doing them at the party last night."

Moral of this story? Ale and little old ladies can make you look stupid.

Copyright © 2009 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved

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Find more poems at One Single Impression
"Descent" as prompt was
suggested by Joseph Harker of Naming Constellations