A Trick of the Mind

The man walked down the street with the knife -
it stuck out at a right-angle from his chest, it was
obvious that it pinned the centre of his heart to the
back of his chestwall but it didn't seem to be doing him
any harm - he looked down at it now and again
as if puzzled that it was there at all - passers-by were
alarmed, children cried, one old man went to gently
inquire if he was all right, but he was waved-away with
an arm and a scowl - eventually the local press were
interested, sniffing a national headline, and they sent a
reporter to find out the truth - after much camping
outside the man's frontdoor the interview took place
in the parlour, the man was sullen, morose, and the
reporter nervous - unusual for him to sit before a man
with a knife sticking out of his chest at a right-angle -
a Bowie knife, new pearl-handled shiny blade, slight
trickle of blood down the bevel but no pain - the 
reported scribbled furiously, anxious to get all the 
details down as to why - the man wouldn't say
muttered something about loss and the trick being
not to mind, silence, no more words, so the reporter
left - his boss was not impressed, just another
loonbin and no national headline, of course it caught on -
soon the town was peopled with chests and knives
different types and shapes and sizes all at right-angles
pinning heartcentres to chestwalls: so much loss
so little said, and so many people pretending
not to mind

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