I spotted a man who had once loved
dogs, loved lighting up the hibachi,
barbecuing burgers and steaks, who once
challenged his son, thirty years younger,
to a quarter-mile race, at the Roosevelt track
and, amazingly, lost by just a hair, a star
sprinter back in his day, so time moves
old man, and you’re now dressed in ragged
old clothes, how odd to see you begging here
for money on the side of the highway
at the intersection of Vineyard and Pali,
limping out to us when the light turns red.
You used to travel to Las Vegas all the time,
never tired of gambling in your day.