This autumn morning at 4:50, I fall in
with my 19 yr. old self.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Cool beard.”
“Thanks.”
Silence.
He says, “How do you know I’m the young you?”
“Same reason you know I’m the old you.”
Quiet.
He rubs his bare chin.
“Glad to know I’ll have a good one.”
More quiet.
Finally, my 19 yr. old self says,
“Does it all work out?
——-The draft, the war, Kent State, the riots, Marie . . . all of it?”
“It does. It’ll be a good run.”
We stop, momentarily regard each other, smile.
He says, “See you down the road,”
—————and heads off into our life.
I nod and finish walking home.

/

Geo. Staley is retired from teaching writing and literature at Portland Community College. He also had taught in New England, Appalachia, and on the Rosebud Sioux Indian Reservation. His poetry has appeared in Freshwater, Main Street Rag, Clackamas Literary Review, Naugatuck River Review, Willow Review, Trajectory, Green Hills Literary Lantern, Evening Street Review, Paddock Review, Slab, Book of Matches, Slipstream, Change Seven, and others.