Tuesday December 27, 2016
From an old journal
I can’t really imagine what he might possibly look like. I’m waiting on the third bench at the station he wrote about at the exact time, in fact, I’m early. He was the one who taught me that hunger is often thirst. He was the one who told me to never eat a peach or asparagus out of season. He was the one who told me that it can’t be a bad day if you’ve made your bed and flossed your teeth. I’m waiting. Train after train goes by and it’s getting cold in the station. I see many men that look like him. We all look more and more alike, wouldn’t you say? I stand up, when I see him, and I smile in the way that I know he thinks I look like my mother. It isn’t him. It’s a man with a beard that looks like his beard, but he’s taller, with broader shoulders.