And Mr. Kagle Walked Home...

This poem was created with the questions and help of some very good friends.

And Mr. Kagle Walked Home...

Did you see him?

The slight man in the brown suit
holding a newspaper in his hand,
black rimmed glasses
slipping on his nose...
silently making his way
as he's done everyday
for the past thirty years of his life.

Down the crowded street,
Among the lights
and the noise,
people talking
rushing
moving with conviction
and with certainty past him.
No one sidesteps from his path.
He does it before you have to do so.
Mr. Kagle...
Mr. Kagle walked home... again.

*****

His walk home
used to take him
to a neighborhood bar
but only
once a week.
There he would sit
at the far corner
near the kitchen door
and nurse his two drinks.

It took a year
for the bartender
to call him by name,
"What do you want tonight, Mr. Kargle?"
Though the drink was never
remembered,
nor the name...
Mr. Kagle didn't mind.

Someone had spoken to him.

The bar talk
and the jokes
were the usual fare,
though he didn't try
his hand.
He never could
remember the endings right,
and he had no stories
that would cause a smile.

So, Mr. Kagle
sat alone
at the end
of the bar
near the kitchen door.
And after his
two drinks were gone...
Mr. Kagle would
quietly go to the door
and turning left,
Mr. Kagle walked home...
...alone.

*****

There was a time
when Mr. Kagle
didn't walk straight home.
He would leave the bar
turning right
and quietly walk
the three blocks down
to Maria's Deli and Wine.

Moving to the back
he would sit in the black, wooden chair.
He would pretend to read
his paper until
that angel would appear.

Jo Anne would smile at him
saying "Hello, Mr. Kagle."
"It's nice to see you tonight."
She had auburn hair
and eyes of hazel.
Her smile was easy and fresh.

Mr. Kagle had only
looked into her eyes but once,
and it had frightened him;
but somehow, he didn't mind.
He had become lost there
in her beauty.

He could only stare.

She would take his order,
and ask about his day.
Mr. Kagle would shyly answer,
and would have to turn away.

But one day
as he took his seat
he knew something wasn't right.
Jo Anne wasn't there,
and his heart caught in his throat.

"She went to live with family,
Minnesota, I think."

Afterward,
Mr. Kagle walked home...
and took his meals,
alone.

*****

The words
from the jukebox sang
about lonely people,
all soft and melancholy.
Mr. kagle sat at the bar
he heard but didn't sing.

He could tell them
about the lonely people
but they were too busy to see.
So, Mr. Kagle drank his drink
and wondered about lonely people... and priests.

Years had passed
and he sat alone
watching the different folks there.
He would watch them quietly,
though they never saw him.

But Mr. Kagle
never talked about it to them.
He kept it all inside.
And all the lonely people
passed him
and didn't miss a stride.

One night a lady entered
and sat at the far table.
She kept looking at the time
and the door... but nothing
ever seemed to happen.

Mr. Kagle felt sorry for her
for he knew how she must feel.
But just as he got the courage to speak...
she walked out the door...
turning to the right.

Mr. Kagle left that night
and looking to the right,
he realized
he couldn't walk that way.
no matter how
much he wanted to.

He quietly
nodded his head
and wherever she went,
he bid her,
"good night."

*****

On Saturday
after his ritual cleaning
and polishing of his shoes
Mr. Kagle would walk
down the block.

He'd visit a bookstore
owned by a Greek and his English wife.
He envied them,
her with her zest for life.
He overheard
of rooftop parties with friends all around...
though there seemed something amiss.

Down to the park
not far from the sea
Mr. Kagle took his book
and would sit and read.
He could go anywhere
in those chapters he read...
and still see the people
that would pass.

The couples hand in hand
The children by the tree.
A group of joggers would run by,
an old man with his grandson,
and a single mother...
out and about with her little girl.

He could loose himself
watching the waves
form and crash...
too only come again.
Mr. Kagle didn't feel lonely
on Saturday mornings...
there was just too much
for him to see.

But when Saturday evening came
he had to go on
his way.
He'd buy his groceries
that he could carry;
and then,
Mr. Kagle walked home...
alone.

*****

On Sundays
Mr. Kagle would reflect
on the days gone behind.
And daydream of the future,
though he knew he was
running short of time.
Though he still thanked his Lord
for the blessing He had bestowed.

There was a time
when he went to church,
though that had been
a long while ago.
He believed in
the Father,
the Son,
and the Holy Spirit.
But after his mother had died,
he didn't go back again.

He might go back to the park;
or even take in a show.
But they were usually too crowded
he just couldn't make himself go.

Sometimes late in the afternoon,
he'd open a small wooden box,
and gaze at the paper within.
An old, worn, menu
from Maria's Deli and Wine...
he'd walked out with on that final day.

And in the end
when the night came
Mr. Kagle sat alone...
he'd hold the menu
close to his heart...
wondering what might have been.

*****

When night time comes
and his evening meal is done,
Mr. Kagle sits
by his window
with the shade
mostly drawn...
and by lamplight
reads his paper.

Night time years ago
had been filled with charity...
either the Red Cross
or the church... and the USO.

But even those times
had long gone.
A slight hearing problem
had made his life...
quiet.
even the military
had turned him away.

So now he reads of adventures
and stories of days gone by...
in solitude about life and grief.
Noise from the street below
are but faint echoes
growing quieter as the years go by.

Before bed,
and after the kitchen
is cleaned for the night,
Mr. Kagle presses
his clothes for the next day...
shirts, underwear alike.

Then Mr. Kagle
glances around seeing his life
gone for another day...
and when after all
his preparations are done
Lies down alone in his bed...
and turns out
the light.

*****

It is late October,
a cool evening
with the leaves blowing around.
Mr. Kagle walked in almost total silence now.
His hearing all but gone,
and his steps closer...
and slower than ever before.
Time was no longer a friend.

Mr. kagle
changed his routine
and went walking
down to the bar,
only to find it full
with strangers from a convention
in town.
Even the corner seat
near the kitchen was taken.
Turning away
he thought of the bookstore
in which to pass some time
and began his way
to his new destination.

He caught sight of a small dog,
hungry by its look
eating some discarded bread
in the middle of the street.
"So skinny, so small."
Mr. Kagle thought
as he quietly walked toward the pup.

The truck driver later said
he had been working hard the whole day,
and was tired
and only wanted to go home.
He hadn't seen the old man step
into his way.

Mr. Kagle didn't know
what had happened.
All he knew was he was on the street,
with unbelievable pain
in his head.
He glanced to see
the pup running safely away...
and then he closed his eyes
a final time.

******

People gathered...
the policeman wrote down
the information
in his pad.
But no one there knew
the name
of the old man
in the plain brown suit.
No one had seen
what had happened... or why.

You see...
no one ever saw
Mr. Kagle...
when he went walking,
alone.