I could practically smell the cigarettes

Though the windows were rolled up
In the aging tan-colored Oldsmobile

It is the first thing I noticed, strangely

A sun-shriveled old face
Peered above the steering wheel

Crowned by a large straw hat

We were united he and I
Two travelers, strangers

Our only common ground the numbing freeway

I began to wonder about his life
And wonder if he wondered about mine

I imagined him an artist
A widower, missing his children

Who again forgot to send a card

I could see him on the old dock
On the summer lake at dusk

Sitting cross-legged, casting his line

Thinking of the malignancy
That took them all from him

That steady current in his own veins

I craved to know his stories
A little girl version of Manolin

And suddenly he was The Old Man and the Sea

As I made my exit
My eyes lingered on the aged auto, aged hat, aged man

Continuing together to amble the road

I silently wished him farewell
And for his final battle, one

Not so bitter-sweet as Santiago’s




Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner