He had a late 19th century daguerreotype face
The face of a Civil War soldier in sepia
But in life deep red
And cracked lips
Stained with last night’s wine.
I was fond of him.
He drew some in and others not
(the smell of the air around him was not pleasant)
But I liked him and appreciated his
Eccentricities, for one
His steadfast devotion to his bicycle
And living kind of green.
Riding everyday to and from a
Senator’s penthouse office
on the 11th floor each work day
Helmet still on
pant legs gathered in bunches at the ankle
Pushing the bike, the familiar
Tick tick tick tick tick
Announcing his arrival
Down the hallway to his
Shambled office.
There wasn’t need for much interaction
Except to rarely ask him to do me a favor
Attend a weekend veterans event
He was always amenable.
And we’d chat, me in the doorway of his office crowded with
Unattended papers
Detritus and bicycle.
There wasn’t room for much else
Except Charlie in the middle.
Once he gifted his old bicycle to my eldest son
Specifically for my son
Who also rode
The roads indefatigably.
I don’t know why I’m thinking of you now,
Charlie
Or wait, I do –
I am driving on a busy suburban road
In our largest shopping district
All cars, cars, cars
When I see you.
It happened On another day like today
A beautiful summer day
You were riding your bicycle
on this car-centric road
At one point you hopped off your bike
Walking it across many lanes
Perhaps you thought it would be safer
So Pushing your bike,
You crossed.
Close by, much too close,
A red car was going fast and blind,
I know in this moment Charlie
Driving down this section of road
That it was all much too fast.
8.20.2020
