The Old Man II

And I see the old man, stooped over

  in the long road, carrying his coins

  and looking askance into the stormy


I return from my life to ask him

  about his loves and losses, but like

  the broken yellow line on the pavement,

  he says nothing, just points the way,

  East or West

So I save my money, and me and my honey

  drive our Studebaker into a 90's sunset

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