Thursday, June 7, 2018

MISSING


For years after he died my grandfather spent most days
In a framed poster of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks
Which hangs in my doctor's waiting room, next to the tv.
He sat at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee,
Looking fairly content. Two or three months ago
I found the picture deserted, the diner's lights dimmed;
I've not seen him since. Yesterday, the counterman
Nodded at me from an old photo, buying a paper
At a Parisian kiosk in 1932. Who'd have thought
The counterman can read French?

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