Gary

Please Comment!

Gary

A veteran. Sixty years old.

His words slipped through the dark tunnels of his teeth
as he talked about the days when he drove tractors
around C-130s in Taiwan.
He says he was "foolish and twenty."
I can’t imagine it; the being twenty part.

His suspenders fight his fat belly.
I hear the fabric stretching.
He whistles on about a
Dear John letter, tequila binge,
his first wife and first son
while I try to piece together the order.
I offer him a cup of coffee.

 

He's going to Florida to see his daughter.
He beat his oldest son out on the back lawn,
he loves to visit Gettysburg, and he only
owns one credit card.
I ask if he's hungry.
I read him the specials.

He nods, and toots, and smiles
and I see him twist his wrist to
greet his watch face.
I say I'll bring him the paper.

I return to his nook and his chair

Tidied up and his jacket is gone,
and the air feels much cooler.
On the table he leaves a twenty
and I know he's not paying me for the coffee.