Poetry

For Mark

He was 75

He wore an old sweater and good shoes

He had horn-rimmed reading glasses that hid his glinty eyes

It had all the effect of painting him an elder hipster

 

He danced tango with his much younger wife

He made inappropriate jokes during class

Like me, he was bored

Thrice married, supporting his step-children through college

I couldn’t tell if his own children were estranged

 

I couldn’t find his obituary but

I did read the article about the accident

A motorcycle seems risky at 75

But then again, so does a third wife

 

The truck hit him from the side, and

He was thrown from the bike

He died on the side of a Southern California Highway

And isn’t that just like him,

To dance on out of this world and into the next?

 

He said, don’t go to Argentina with a beautiful woman

Unless, of course, you want to fall in love

 

But I didn’t need to go to Argentina

I went to St Louis

I sat by an older man in a corporate training class

He teased me and checked his stock portfolio while

We were supposed to be paying attention and instead

We just barely survived fake-nice Linda together

 

I fell in love with the way he loved life

And made fun of the inspirational sayings in my planner

 

I hope he wasn’t cold and

I hope he didn’t hurt and

I hope he’s dancing tango with an angel

Right now

 

 

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