The Vet
His clothing is mottled,
His beard speckled grey
and he takes up his post
by the road every day.
But he knows he’s depressed; he is always depressed,
And his sadness ferments like old wine, and the best
He can do is to drink. Feelings caught in the flow
Are washed further downstream where he won't have to go.
I’m staring ahead, and
The light will turn green,
And I drum on the wheel
hoping I won’t be seen.
I believe that I felt
Much the same long go.
My thinking habitual -
Ebb and a flow,
and the flow picks up force
As time courses along,
Then reaches the ocean
Where currents are strong.
Pepperoni and cheese
Are now comfortably seated
By me. Mr. Domino’s
Will be reheated
When I arrive home.
And at home I will peer
At the art on the frig.
It’s been there for a year.
The man is still there.
I roll down the window.
He rushes the car
Like a wave rolling
In with the tide from afar,
And recedes with the pizza.
There’s nothing I’ve lost.
When you get to the ocean,
No boundaries are crossed.
My light’s up ahead.
It helps order my day.
He’s back at his post.
I’m on my way.
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