poem of the day 01.15.16

mistaken identity

he hands me

a senior citizen bus pass

with a blurry photo on it

and says, this isn’t me

sure enough it’s not

it’s another old white guy

but it’s hard to tell the difference

if you aren’t really looking

he says, you gave me back the wrong i.d.

we take i.d. here

in exchange for newspapers

and there’s no other i.d. in the box

i don’t have your i.d., i tell him

well, who does? he says

most likely the other guy, i say

he looks around the room

like he’s trying to spot a terrorist

where is he? he asks

probably on the bus, i say

what am i gonna do? he asks

use his i.d. and take the bus too

he says, he could be doing anything with my i.d.

creating a fake credit card

ordering plane tickets

joining facebook

he’s probably on the bus, i say

can you call him? he asks

so i look up the number and dial

no luck

old white men and me

we’re the last people on the planet

without cell phones

and i can’t wait until i get my free bus pass

he hands me the i.d. and says

well, i can’t do anything with this

he walks out of the building like a zombie

like someone has stolen his life

and maybe they have

but not five minutes pass

before the other one walks in

like he’s never been in the joint before

he’s holding the controversial senior citizen bus pass

like a soiled tissue

throwing it on the desk

he points at the blurry picture of the other old codger

like he’s seen a ghost

hands shaking he says

i don’t think that’s me.

i hand him back his correct i.d.

but he stares at it, as if he’s not sure

that’s the right one either

then he walks out of the building

looking from the i.d. to the image of himself

in the glass doors

not really sure of anything

anymore.