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Sonnets From Other Lives: Gil

Gil pushes his walker through the mall—
one circuit equaling one point two miles.
These days one circuit ‘round is really all
he can manage. The pretty mall cop smiles
as he approaches—Hey Gill! Keep on truckin’.
He looks up from his stooped lurch—Ah yuh,
Rosa—I’m tryin. You make your own luck in
this world, Gil thinks. Lord know he’s seen enough
hard times to know. Just half a mile to go—
one one hundred twelfth the distance of
the march from Bataan to San Fernando.
Pick em up & set em down now. Left. Right. Left.
As long as you’re still movin you ain’t dead.