The Millennial Pedestrian

The Dead Men

I see them trudge across the bridge above the tracks,
hatted heads shrunk down into the collars
of their coats against the driving snow.
In Roadmasters and Country Squires
pushed against the curb like feeding cows,
their wives await them.
Headlights silhouette this wan brigade,
hurry their shadows down the sidewalk.
My father passes by the striding Johnnie Walker sign
in Canepa’s Wines & Liquors, finds my mother
in her spot by County Boys’ and Mens’.

Forever trudging and forever middle-aged
in memory, they are dead now, almost all of them.
The casseroles, the cocktails, cozy houses,
steady jobs, the worsted suits and striped silk ties,
month-long vacations at the shore;
one car one house one wife two children and a pension
when the work was done:
comforts we no longer honor or assume.

Why does this image so remind me of defeat?
I see them still through veils of time and blowing snow:
soldiers in the army,
unreflecting prisoners of war.

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 2nd, 2006.
It's part of the New Poems category.
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