When I spotted you in line several people
ahead of me as we all waited for the BART
train, everything in me reached out to you.
Oh my gosh…my brother! A big guy, narrow
of hip, bearded and dark about the eyes, in
work boots and blue jeans, your faded navy
t-shirt proudly stamped Local 22, your manly
lunchbox roughed up in camouflage, big
enough to hold an urn of black coffee and a
bear sandwich…with a real bear. My brother,
here! But I didn’t go to you. I just loved you
for a minute, my brother being gone,
but you very much alive.
Ann Keiffer
October, 2014
Image: Google Search
