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Kevin Carey

A Dream

I’m parked outside the MFA

and a homeless man

is approaching my car

and I have a dollar in my hand.

I’ve been celebrating the holiday with

a painting I love in the Koch Gallery—

Zurbarán—A monk’s vision of the ghost

of St Francis.

He was my father’s saint

(the great worrier)

He’s mine now.

It’s Christmas again (wasn’t it just yesterday)

the years like thumbing the pages of a flip book.

My father lived to be seventy-eight

that gives me fifteen more Christmas days

maybe one more dog

a baker’s dozen of summers

a couple of cars

or a grandkid or two?

Out the car window

another gray day moves behind me

the empty Boston streets

the trash along the sidewalk

and I realize I am the ghost of St Francis, too

staring back at the world

I’ve already left behind.


Kevin Carey has published a few books and made a few movies.

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