late Sunday morning
what can I take from him
in his waning years
that I’ve yet to discover
he asked me
is there anything that I have here
that you want
anything whatsoever
of course I realized
he was speaking of material things
having consistently kept his own philosophies
close to the vest
in hindsight there were probably
a thing or two or three—
could it have been
he was opening a door
trying to bait me like the fisherman
that he is
tempting me with a tidbit or two
only to yank it away
I nodded sideways
uninterested in the material world
incapable of matching his own imagination
august two thousand twenty-two
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