each night
well, almost every night
early in the evening
I see the old man
and his small black and white dog.
It’s dark on these streets
and no matter how often he has seen me
he always gives meÂ
a look that is frightened
and yet bold –
bold because his small brittle dog isÂ
with him.
he wears old clothing
a wrinkled cap
cotton gloves
large square-toed shoes.
we never speak.
he is my age but I feel younger…
he and his dog give me a feeling ofÂ
peace.
they belong
like the street signs
the lawns
the yellow windows
the sidewalks
the sirens and the telephone
wires.
the driveways
the parked cars
the moon when there is a moon.Â
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i am a paying subscriber of poetic outlaws and love the website...also am an admirer of charles bukowski...but too many bukowski poems are overkill...with all the thousands of excellent poets past and present i think it would be a great idea to present some of those to us...thank you