Fall 2010, Volume 9

Poetry by Douglas Evered

Bananas

There’s this dried up old man
Seems to finish up in front of me
In the market check-out line.
I’m talking fairly early
Eight thirty or so.
I know because I stop
To get bananas, to keep
My potassium level up.
He always has one of those
Jumbo beers, Aussie I think.
I hang back because he smells,
That unwashed sour smell.
The checkout ladies know him
They’d make sure he gets his change.
Sometimes he starts to walk off
But they call him back.
I feel badly watching him
I just don’t want to get involved.
I am uncomfortable, feeling guilty
I’d like someone else to help.
I know something is wrong
But I don’t have the stomach
To do anything, to reach out.
I regret I don’t, but I’d regret
It more if I did, so I don’t.
I wonder where he sleeps,
Where he eats. From the dumpster
Behind the market, or the Taco Bell.
He could be put away
Doped into oblivion.
Fed, clothed and sheltered
To die quickly and quietly　
That’s been tried big time
And found not to work
That’s why people like him
Are out there wandering about.
I suspect that this man
Will chose to continue
Living free, drunk mostly.
In a fairly demented state.
Much as I dislike it
He’s probably better off.
That’s my conclusion
But I’m not too sure,
There are so many things
That make me uncomfortable
I try not to think about them
As I go busily about my life.
He’s out of my mind
Until the next time.
I’ll wait and buy bananas later
When he has come and gone.

 

BIO: “I am Douglas Evered, I like words. I put them into poetry, fiction and biography (mine). I'm in the Library of Congress like a tree falling in the forest. I'm old but still out there among the animals. Aging is best met by keep moving, I do.”