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,     wrinkle-free     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

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.