the milk man

you miss the milk
man.
his truck
with cold milk.
bottles
ice cold in the hand.
his pastries
and eggs.
sausage and bacon.
all placed
neatly into the silver
box
on your stoop.
his
engine blowing blue
smoke
out the back
as he rumbled
through the early
morning streets.
you miss the milk man
and everything those years
appeared to be
but weren't.