After Memorial Day for Don M.

I rode through downtown on the bus

   Like I do nearly every day,

                 Glumly staring out the window

    Trying not to think about all the work

               Waiting for me. 

 In your place I saw a homeless guy,

          Hunkered down

                      In a way you would have hated.

He wasn’t selling newspapers or anything

Just lying there

                                Out of the wind, a few bags with him.

That was your place. 

 You stood there, selling newspapers every day, never missed.

 Now, your current place

   Is better suited to your situation,

A place where people salute, and flags are given away

To families of the heroes,

Where your friends gathered to tell stories and shed tears,

The grass is green. It is quiet. 

 I can picture you setting aside your book and telling me

                                                                         About life.