Member Poem

His body forced him into retirement
and though his pace is now slow
his mind still wants to go
somewhere, anywhere
He’s a small-town man.
There’s not much to do
but he doesn’t want to sit at home
wasting away until “that” day.
Each Monday morning, he dresses
gets in his car
visits the McDonald’s drive-thru
two eggs McMuffins
a large coffee, six creams/six sugars
a large sweet tea.
He could have gone into McDonald’s,
sat around and gabbed with the other Old-Timers
but he’s not ready to be part of that crowd.
He drives to the Walmart parking lot
eats his meal in silence parked close to the cart corral;
easier for him to get a cart to steady his balance.
He goes inside without a list.
Carefree, he walks the aisles
looking at this, at that
at nothing.
“Could you tell me where to find ...”
Hoping to have a conversation with an employee.
He keeps an eye out for acquaintances and friends.
You never know who’ll be at the store
on any given day.
His cart is usually empty—
he doesn’t need anything—
nothing that he can put in the basket.
He says hello to everyone he passes.
It’s a way to while away the hours.
Tomorrow is Tuesday;
he’ll get up and get dressed again—
Tuesdays are for Rural King.
They have popcorn and coffee too.
Sometimes he’ll make a new friend,
a customer with an excited puppy.
Wednesdays are for the library,
Thursdays for the petting zoo,
Fridays are for auto parts store,
Saturdays the barber for just a trim,
Sundays are for church to offer a prayer or two.
It’s strange how quickly/slowly time passes,
and then it’s Monday again and he’s on his way to McDonald’s.
People may think it’s a sad existence
lonely and boring
but, it’s not the grave.
He’s not ready to be part of that crowd