I USED TO KNOW A BUSHMAN

I used to know a bushman

Near a bar up north,

It seemed he could hardly

Speak English.

I used to take him booze and food

Twice a month,

He had an aware

And relaxed limber way.    

He was missing a tooth or two

And he didn't smell good

Always in the same coveralls

Before and after chopping wood

I didn't let his lack of hygene worry me,

There are some things more important

Than cleanliness;

He could hardly speak a  sentence

His grammar was bad

I thought he'd  live in the bush

For eternity.

But with a twinkle in his eye

And a laughing way

 He seemed to read what I was thinking

With each expression in my face

He laughed, not at me but with me,

So much he couldn't say

To inform me.

I got a job down south,

Didn't see him for years,

I was teaching at the university.

I heard laughter next door

In the philosophy class

I found this man was teaching next to me.

He wore a three piece suit,

With well cut hair;

He was speaking most articulately.

The same bushman I knew

From the woods east of here

It seemed an impossibility:

How he got here from there,

Cleaned up his affairs,

It certainly seemed a mystery.

                                           (C) 2016 by W.G. Milne