So You Won’t Forget

Biking through the snow’s tears
betraying this place’s years,
weeping in the sidewalk cracks,
but age ain’t always wisdom,
lest we forget.

The man by the doorway,
he suffers and cries,
while the wealthy pass by him
with stone in their eyes;
they’ve learned to forget.

His name’s George;
he’s not from Germany.
He needs medication;
he’s suffering from gout, see,
and a swollen sense of regret.

He shows me pics of his kids,
a son and daughter like mine.
I share my water, amidst
stares from the trolley line;
he doesn’t want to forget.

The rips in his blankets,
the scars when he speaks,
he sleeps in the garage,
he’s been there for weeks;
a sorrow he won’t forget.

His wife and his children,
a country away,
he can’t seem to get there,
but he can’t bear to stay,
fearful they might forget.

He has a kind face,
it matches his son’s.
He’s been panhandling change,
no papers, but he’s not on the run.
There’s something else, but he forgets.

I sit with him an hour
‘cause that’s how long it takes,
to get his medication,
pockets can’t hide shakes,
and a night he’d like to forget.

I leave him with walnuts,
chocolates, and greens,
he leaves me the fullest
smile I’ve ever seen;
kindness we both won’t forget.

As I bike the sidewalk,
aware I’m on the wrong side,
it’s the way I view things;
I’m just along for this ride.
I wrote this so you won’t forget.

Khruangbin “So We Won’t Forget”


  1. Your line about age and wisdom not always going hand in hand is very apt. You don’t look old enough to be writing such powerful stuff! I’m not being patronising, I am really impressed with your stuff. Well done!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Very well brought to its ending here. Not making it neat, but making it real and personal. Engaging is the word I like using. Poems are relationship. You paint a picture that way. Thanks. (will have to return for seconds!)


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