Old Man In The Park Poem by Bert Bell

The promise of summer was everywhere
this morning, even in the rivers that
fell out of the sky during the night

that flooded my back yard. I walked
down the street to the newsstand
to pick up my daily dose

of disappointment, and I met an elderly man
with a small oxygen tank
muttering to an old dog he was walking

in the park. he was a friendly enough old guy,
and I asked him how he was
doing, and this is what he had to say―

'when I look back over my life, I'm
reminded of the tattered
laundry I've seen on inner city

clotheslines, or the old license plates
you sometimes see nailed
to the wall of an old man's garage―

they all have tales to tell with their
patches and their dents and their rust
and their scratches― ephemeral,

you might say, but not a whole lot
of use to anyone, anymore.
that's about all I can tell you, son―

and what about you― how are you doing? '



Bert Bell 2016