One True Sentence
The end of the summer came,
And the marsh grasses turned
Red and yellow and brown.
Hordes of returning students filled
The sleepy streets of the town.
Ned had been a student here
But quit after his freshman year,
To hitchhike across country,
With dreams of being a writer.
He moved around, shiftless,
Until he arrived at the doorstep
Of the one writer he most admired.
The writer, it turned out, to Ned’s good
Fortune, was looking for someone to hire,
To help him with a huge pile
Of letters he needed to answer. The master
Liked him because he made him smile.
Months went by but one night
Ned drank too much, as he often did,
And got into a fight
With a boy, and knocked him cold.
He fled, without leaving a note.
He put everything, his life, on hold,
Never able to find anything to match
His experience with the famous writer.
He married, had children, but left to catch
A ride back east, to the same college town
Where he had once studied. He lived
A recluse, finding it more and more difficult
To write, to get one true sentence down.