He spoke about a misplaced serenade
from a wilderness of pain,
divulging a secret only those
in his hometown could possibly know.
And now a wider world, too, I suppose.
His journey seemed cathartic
(if that’s the right word to use)
and in that moment of sharing
I felt my way along his path
until he brought the point
forcefully home. For it’s hard
to be alone. And harder still
to yearn for someone awkwardly
close who’s willing to expend
a little time or effort
to mine the pleasures
of one’s company. In the end
he lamented how his tale
of what-might-have-beens
have slipped irretrievably
into a past not worthy
of claiming, saying how
all that’s lost
can never truly
be found.
I don’t pretend to know
what will happen to the man
I met at Walmart, or any of us
when we reach our final
days. All I can say
is this… I wish
you few regrets.
