James Keane lives and writes in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey. This poem originally appeared in the Indiana Voice Journal.

On My Way
By James Keane

I was on my way
to a class reunion,
where the beer and
beef steak would flow
all night. Bundled up
in a handsome coat
and hat appropriate for
a businesswoman staring down
the wintry bite, you were dragging
a suitcase (or was the suitcase
prodding you) slowly,
gradually, to nowhere near
where I was heading. In the spiky
shadows of wrought-iron
church gates, somber but
silent in their disapproval,
you stopped me. Even
in the face of your twisting
grimace, I was proudly
prepared to provide whatever
direction would propel you
securely on your way. But
unprepared—only briefly,
thankfully—for the prayer
you offered in angry
agony, politely:
           “Will you help me,
please? I’m so hungry.”