Old man sits alone
park bench, chill wind
stainless steel walker
appears to cage him in

captivity in the outdoors

The man twitches oddly,
erratically, ever more
violently, piquing concern
tinged curiosity;

Parkinson’s, perhaps?
Some other disorder?
Should I call 911?

Presuming my assistance
I walk his way, stop short;

beatific smile not evident
from my original vantage,
what appears at first glance
a hearing aid is an ear bud,
hooked to an iPod, dangling
from the same lanyard as
his medical alert pendant

Moments ago, his prim,
gray fedora seemed askance
in my alarm, but now I see
is simply cocked jauntily,
the nervous twitch on the
walker bar is simply keeping
the beat to a groove I never,
in my ignorance, considered

About poetluckerate

I am a poet, writer and teacher who moved from Minnesota to New Orleans in 2008 to help rebuild the worst public school system in America. It is a huge challenge to say the least. Now, after ten years, I have returned home to my native Midwest. Writing - in many different forms and ways - has saved me untold thousands in therapy bills throughout the years. Reading my writings may do either the same - or just the opposite - for you. Read at your own risk, as I do not offer writer malpractice insurance. ;-{) I hope you enjoy what you read here.
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