3.5.08, en route back to Jackson
Last night
I met a man of peace,
assured and calm
in his mother's time of need.
He told me he's from Eugene,
that land of Kesey
and the book I was reading.
Last night
I told him
that I once too
knew Oregon.
He smiles
at my admiration.
Our elders
share a nursing home,
an estate of sorts,
his mother
and my mother's mother.
"They say she's declining,"
he says. She is ninety-six.
"I understand," I say.
I'm twenty-three
and without work.
We land in Mississippi,
issue condolences
and gather our things.
No comments:
Post a Comment