he was down by the waterfront
dreaming of being a captain
in the navy, wearing his old
captain’s hat and smoking his
corncob pipe. the crazy old man
said he was part of a special
mission to bomb the shit out
of those Chinese commies,
as he wildly waved his arms
and gestured toward the sea.
suddenly, he said it was cold
and he had to go to a funeral,
his car full of old garbage
and his few belongings.
he climbed in and shifted into
drive as I shook my head
and talked to myself in the rain
walking back to the hotel,
just a few years younger
and a couple more marbles.