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Each morning
On my drive to work I pass
him.
He's holding a plastic grocery bag.
It's cold.
He's bundled in a hunter's cap, a thick wool jacket, and thick leather gloves.

Each morning
On my drive to work I pass
him.
He stops, looks at my eyes, and smiles
a big, genuine old-man smile.
And he waves right at me.

Each morning
On my drive to work I pass
him.
He waves like that to ...