Eddie the Car Inspector

Poem

Eddie the Car Inspector

Eddie the car inspector, you don't move
at a city speed any longer
but manage the metered parking
with a little bit of Friday luck perhaps

a leased company vehicle
is what you're here to consider

passenger side, into traffic
you get the required photos
without hesitation without quickness
in your step

laughing at the real danger of duck boats,
the years in 'Nam now posing
less a threat than a hurtling conglomeration of tourists

but that is indeed your world now
(and perhaps most of ours)

halfway through the job
offhandedly you reveal
the story,
today is your day:

"I would never have imagined
myself doing this on my 56th wedding anniversary"
in the brightest tone
possible for such an admission

May 22nd 1970 you were married
and you're still glowing from it

you'll see your wife tonight
just as you did for the first 10 days
after your wedding
and then as you did not for the next 14 months

you fought through the jungles
in a war that mythologized
only those who stayed away from it
(and yet this is just my narrative
the litter of an outside perspective)

you talked about it being the best
thing you could've experienced
your particular marriage to your particular person
and the 14 months away were proof
of how lucky you were,
your wife and young son
waiting for you
and the 56 years and counting

including now
this Memorial Day weekend
that's just beginning, Friday afternoon
and you're done here
and as I'm shaking your hand
you notice the ring I'm wearing:

"I hope it brings you as much joy
as it has brought me"