By David Janik
Date: 24 May 1998

Walking Beside the Tired Old

As he speaks of lost loves and ideals
He is sad.
And the residue from the rain beads on
     his wrinkled, old face and runs
     down his neck.
He pauses silently beneath a tree;
The drenched overcoat he wears over
     his white cotton shirt looks as
     tired as the man himself.
As he starts to walk again,
He turns his optimistic, old eyes towards
     me and says,
"Every now and then,
In this day and age
In which the hire policemen
To drive around and make sure no one
     is growing love in thier backyard,
One must be nostalgic about the
     long past days when a postage
     stamp cost twenty-two cents."