the grocery clerk

he taught

for years, maybe twenty

or more

at the community college.

he loved

his work.

his students.

he was full of Dante,

Dostoevsky

Hemingway

and Plath,

and then i saw him

at the grocery

store,

bagging milk

and bread,

oranges.

retired at last.

he nodded to me and

said, hey,

how's it going.

still writing, i hope.