Charlie

He had a late 19^th 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 11^th 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