The Prodigal Son

Like an old man himself, he longsto return to yesterday’s thinking,to parse once more his gingered past:women, food, the pleasures of wealth.

But the money is gone. He must beg for moreand in begging promise a new life:servitude, hard work, perseverance, loyalty.

He expects this resolution to be shallow, passing,like the russet tint of certain rivers, like inconvenience.No matter what, the old man will feed me.