Craig Wisner

An Old Friend This Morning.

riding broken streets to work
-ahead, rounding a corner
I catch the eye of another cyclist
and there is sudden recognition
and we stop
and there’s a bewildered smile
and an old friend standing there,
an old friend from the lean old days
of art school, cheap malt liquor,
and not thinking much
beyond tomorrow.
20 years ago.
How the fuck
could it be 20 years.
We pull into a driveway out of traffic
hug, trade laughs
and disbelief
that we found each other
just after sunrise
rolling along in the gutter
off Venice and Crenshaw.
He looked old
and tired
and I know if I saw the same man
when I was younger,
I would have thought
he was just another old man
on a beat-up bike
going to a beat-up job
with bloodshot eyes
and dirty pants.
But after promising to meet
for memories and a beer
I pedal away, wondering
and I look down
and I notice my dirty pants
and I can feel my tired eyes
and I can trace the lines in my face
and I realize that I’ve completely forgotten
about what I, too
have become.


One response

  1. Yeah, pretty much, but more like 30 years for me. Still, beats the alternative.

    We’ll, off for a bike ride. Wish me safe travels.


    November 26, 2015 at 10:31 am

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