the admiral,
aged now,
without his fleet,
his captains
at the wheel of
ships
at sea,
the man without
a uniform,
shuffling about
with no hat,
no medals or
ensignia
to tell you who
he is and
where he's been,
is beside you
at the produce
aisle, sorting
through
tomatoes, radishes
in the bin,
he's picking up
stalks of corn,
and putting
them back.
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