A man from a house not far who rode the train
I used to take to New York till I stopped going,
though we still nodded, and later I learned his name
when my wife met his, and once when we were throwing
an even-up munch-and-swozzle open house
they came, and a few months later invited us
to his country club, so later we asked them to mine,
and were next-to-last one year in the member-guest,
and became, as you might say friends, or from time to time
had drinks, or when we were out with someone else,
and they were, we bought their table drinks around,
and they waved and came over, and once, having eaten, we
found
he had picked up our check, so we sent champagne,
a magnum, and stopped for a glass with them because
we were doing well, or at least feeling no pain,
which led us to think we were friends, and there certainly was
no reason not to, and none whatever to know
more about him except as a good Joe,
—died, omitting flowers for the cancer fund,
so we sent a donation card and went to the viewing,
and Tuesday morning to Woodlawn, and stood around,
and a decent later we phoned her to say we were doing
nothing much and how about dinner, but she
had been disconnected. Had moved to Marathon Key
we were told by the agent who had sold the house
and sent her the check. So on our way to Key West
my wife tried to phone, but couldn’t, and had to guess
she had maybe remarried, so we drove the rest
of the way to our condo and said a big hello
to all the people there we think we know.
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