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.