Poem: Not Nostalgia

We all meet ourselves on the streets of life, and so I met the broken man.

Not Nostalgia

This is not nostalgia,
    but I used to love the broken man
    and yesterday I passed him by
    on my way to a business deal
On my way to something
    that wouldn’t wait
In a hurry, I know you understand
    and there was no time
    for the touch on my sleeve
    and the hunger in his eyes

This is not nostalgia
    because I knew the broken man,
oh so long ago, years back before the climb,
    when we talked on rainy afternoons
    in a shabby tavern
But I’m so close now, so very close
    to the next step up
    and the moment’s come quickly
    and the deal’s closing-in
    and the times are closing-down

This is not nostalgia
    that’s a name for World War Two,
    Glenn Miller’s band and radio
There are no homeless on the Internet
    and it never rains these afternoons
‘Cause I’ve been promised wash and wear,
    and no bitter aftertaste
    for the touch on my sleeve
    and the hunger in his eyes

It’s not nostalgia
    so then why this feeling of dèjá
    without a comfortable vu
Having been here before in times when
no one turned away,
my father held the door for Mom
    and she smiled
A smile wrinkle-free
    with no bitter aftertaste
Can’t think about it now, I’m late, gotta rush,
    but I know it’s not nostalgia
Poetry Collection: The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection


available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.