me free, M. too, there you go.
it was easy this time
the way it ought to be
to enter the modern art museum.
recalling the ancient city Herculean
near Pompeii two years past where
the young man at the desk shook his head.
he checked my Italian id document – American docs. won’t do.
then it was three days
before my sixty-fifth birthday.
no way; he wouldn’t
let me in for free.
i knew at the time an older clerk would
know by my eyes the wear of years;
and thus bequeath me
three days.
three lousy days short of 65 years.
and welcome me enter - freely.
“please do enter. welcome, new senior citizen.”
i should have told the kid
to tell his mom and dad about his victory.
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