Papa Poet

I saw this guy near my old college campus. He was like every other anti-establishment guy you’ve seen peddling his bike down the road: sweaty, hairy, focused only on the road. But this time I saw something else.

Peace Sign

Peddle past old man
on your paperboy-special
with a simple grace and a peace
sign inked on the back of your pack
hair pulled tight in a frizzed gray bob
matching the frizzed gray beard on you face.
“Are you coming or going?” I ask,
“Going. And coming too, I guess.” I hear
and pretend to understand. Going and coming:
going to school, coming aware
going to bed, coming asleep
going to ‘Nam, coming to Jesus
just as I am
without one plea, no not one
but to grow my own gray bob and beard
and fade into the distance
bearing peace.