The man on the corner with the cardboard
Sign is dirty, tall, and heavily dressed. He is
Probably under forty-five as well, young enough,
Despite a little grizzle on the chin, to get
A double take when he tells someone
Who hands him a couple bucks that he served
And was wounded in Vietnam. Vietnam
Is about as long ago now as the Civil War was
At the start of World War One. No one
Who served is anywhere near young. The last
Nineteen-year olds to see combat in ‘73
Are hitting retirement age next year.
The trees around the parking lot are heavy
With yesterday’s snow. A clear cold front
Is settling in, and one wonders if the liar
In his filthy brown great coat and black
Knit cap, with his sign and his chapped
Hand held out for handouts has anywhere warm
To go, any chance to live to be actually old.
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