Old Man

I remember he says When I was young That store on the corner Was run by an old Jewish couple I remember the numbers They had on their arms And was always curious Why they did that to themselves I was so young and naive And here, he went on, In the middle of the block Was a German delicatessen They had the very best potato salad I remember them all On the next block was the bakery You could smell the bread Being baked every morning Not like it is now I can’t smell nothin’ now I loved to play stick ball With the kids on the block I can still all their faces And remember all their names I have seen the life pass away From this neighborhood All these streets have changed I miss those days a lot he said As a tear rolled down his cheek He spoke out in a low voice This isn’t how it was suppose to be Head bent down almost touching The stained and crumpled sign That lay next to an old soup can That had a few various coins in it While I started to walk away I heard him talking to himself In a hushed quiet voice Almost impossible to hear This isn’t how it was suppose to be This isn’t how it was suppose to be This isn’t how it was suppose to be