Old Man

On the bus
There is an old sad man
With no light left in his expression
As if he's tired of living
But just exists
Here and now

His face is weathered
Mouth in permanent frown
Graying eyes that stare into
the distance
Behind them
You can see his mind
Stuck in a memory

Maybe he hears my thoughts
of how
What I'm sure was once
A strong athletic handsome young man
can let time and life
steal away from that light
And leave behind
A frail worn body
With nothing to smile about

And he's riding this bus
The same way he's riding through his existence
Just waiting to get off at his stop

Brooklyn 2:48pm

Brooklyn 2:48PM
"Utica, Utica, Utica"
Is the corner I'm standing on
Crown Heights
Train Station

"Taxi, Taxi, Taxi"
Another man calls
(2) Dollar cabs compete for passengers
47, 17, 46
No, those are bus numbers
Not today's lottery

"Newport, Newport, Newport"
Nicotine peddler calls
Something about this
Reminds me of old merchant days
Shouting goods and services offered

"You Know?..."
Followed by the laughter of two
20 something year old girls
Who look better in 'skinny' jeans
Than I ever will

Loud melodic horns
combating with frustrated bus drivers
Passengers going home
Or to work
Or shopping
(Kings Plaza!)

4 Train
Last stop
I walk down Utica
Make a left on Carroll

The more things change
The more some things stay same

Cold December Day
On a bright Brooklyn block