by Peter Klein

When it became too much
he ran away
traveling by bus until he came
to a small town in the mountains.

He opened a diner, cooked
the simple meals his mother
had taught him as a boy
and became a familiar figure

wandering the streets after closing.
Seasons blew in from the west
while he dozed
in a chair by the window,

or worked late on the books,
his coffee cooling in a cup.
Rain washing away last year's leaves,
creased photos fading in his wallet.

Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.