Poem #84

outside the grocery, quick lunch while between here and
somewhere else.
people watching, appraising, judging, making little stories
for the creatures passing by either into or out of
the breezeway of the supermarket.
i’m struck by the way they create their lives,
the afternoon grocery buyers.
if you wait, they will show you who they are.
they will show you sensitive fathers holding tiny hands
of child in pink dress, crossing the street, moving away
from my vantage.
a huge man, menacing in a scrap, laid low by tiny fingers.
striding business men in glossy suits that shimmer like
holographic paper in the sun,
important men, essential men,
samurais to their masters of industry.
I wonder if they will have the fish
or a burger or a salad for their midday meal.
so many elderly, moving slowly behind dark glasses
in big cars, or short buses, wandering into
and out of a world they no longer recognize,
yet somehow are part of still.
i am aging quicker now and soon will know
the feeling of being adrift in the new.
overhead the jet stream is moving,
the wind drops grit on all our faces,
the asphalt heats toward impenetrable summer,
and here shoppers appear, disappear
and lunch is finished.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s