Under the Big Black Sun
with grateful acknowledgment
This is the man you avoid standing behind in the grocery checkout line because he will try to talk to you. He is the one who, a week after making a purchase, will return to the store and seek out the very clerk who sold it to him and tell how things are going, explaining the tortured progress with the cassette player, the can opener. He holds the door open for the family who could actually manage getting the children outside easier without his help. He will wave across the crowd at a monument unveiling to the police juror he voted for six years ago and expect to be remembered.