Correspondences

The speaker with his hand held
to his mouth like a shield
corresponded to the expensive shrink
with his hearing aid turned off
who was like the surgeon enjoying
a smoke after the operation
who reminded me of the slow-walking
winner of the hundred-yard dash
who married the Peeping Tom
professor of film studies,
who snorted coke with the cop
who lived next door
to the life-affirming funeral director
who had his hair cut by the bald
belligerent barber
who lived upstairs from the amnesiac
at work on her autobiography
who never heard of the author of
The Death of the Author,
who died.