I saw an old man and I wanted to cry.
I see him everywhere, always surprising me.
In the shade, hunched over, under a tree by the courtyard, looking small.
Selling cookies at the Farmer’s Market. Quiet, drawn into himself, no customers.
So I buy in abundance.
Nothing I need with money I don’t have.
I see him everywhere.
His weathered face, mustache hiding his quiet lips.
Never moving, always leaving me wanting to hear more.
And when they do, sometimes I can’t run away fast enough.
Into myself, bracing myself.
Against what I want so badly.
