We share a driveway.He stopped his car
and got out
as I was
walking back
toward my house.
"People don't have
time to talk,"
he said,
"the golden age
isn't really
golden.
Too much to do
and I don't know
where to start.
I can't wait
until the end,"
he said.
His hands and arms
shook as he talked,
adding that he was
worried about his
friend from WWII,
a nose gunner,
who was in the town
in Kansas
just flattened by a tornado.
Then the sun came out,
and what looked like
a gloomy day was now idyllic.
Look,
I said,
"a beautiful day."
"Yes,"
he answered,
"it is."
