The Man on the Bike Path

Every day, rain or shine,
I’d see him on my way to work.
I would be riding my bike,
he would be walking and
we’d usually pass each
other by the 30th Street
bridge.

Everyday he carried two full
plastic Wild Oats bags,
wore those headphones
that have an antenna
sticking up from the left side
for reception, his watery
blue eyes focused
on the sidewalk three feet
in front of him. He never
looked up at me, his expression
never changed, his mind somewhere,
not related
to here.

Sometimes if I was running
very late, he would have arrived
at the bench by 19th Street
He would sit besides his two
full plastic Wild Oats bags and
listen to his radio, thoughtfully
regarding the creek and the sky.

Wild Oats doesn’t exist anymore.
Yesterday I saw him with two spanking
new Whole Foods bags,
filled to the brim.
Even he is affected by
corporate mergers.