A Man from Town

A man from town died today

He was not an extraordinary man

On the contrary, he was just a man from town

He had a small apartment in town

And in that small apartment

He had furniture that was not new

One room of his apartment was bare

Except for a stack of books

That he never got around to reading

There was a shopping bag with a receipt in it

For a shirt he meant to return

And we know he was going to return the shirt

Because there was a note on his fridge

That said ‘Return shirt to store’

The shirt, however, was not in the bag

Nor in his closet

And this was a mystery after he died

Almost anything can be made into a mystery

After someone dies

Usually by the people the dead person
Leaves behind

And these mysteries are invented

So as to create a counterargument to death

‘But how can he be dead?  He had a shirt to return.

Surely, he’d have to return the shirt before he died.

And where IS the shirt?

No, this is fishy.
This is very fishy.
The only answer is—he can’t be dead.’

But he is, in fact, dead

And the mystery isn’t a mystery at all

The man gave the shirt away to someone he worked with

And forgot to throw out the shopping bag and the receipt

And the note about returning the shirt

An ordinary problem
An ordinary man

An ordinary set of events

That never took place

Because death intervened

The man from town was known by people from town

And by a few people who are not from town

And he was liked by many people

And he was disliked by a few people

And he was totally unknown to the rest of the world

And that would have been the case

No matter who the man was

He had a job , and it was fine

He had friends, and they were fine

He had hopes and dreams and goals

And they were all fine too

If unrealized

He drove a car that needed an oil change

He made his bed, but not until he got home from work

He did his laundry at a Laundromat

And while it washed and dried

He read a series of fictional books about a fictional lawyer

Who seemed very, very real to him

In a way, the man from town

Wanted to be an extraordinary fictional lawyer

But instead, he was who he was

Not much of anyone

He was not exceptionally handsome

He was not exceptionally charming

He was not exceptional

He was smart, but not bright

He was clear, but not eloquent

He was nice, but not kind

Sensible but not wise

He’d never served in combat

Or ran for office

Or made lots of money

Or lost lots of money

Or written anything noteworthy

Or loved deeply

Or mourned

His parents passed away

And he cried

And that was that

His sister fell out with him
Over something silly

And she would not be attending his funeral

Because of her own guilt

But she would say it was because of what happened between them

Even though she couldn’t remember exactly what it was

Whatever it was

It was not…exceptional

The man from town’s death was not exceptional

It was quick and quiet

There was pain

Because death is painful

But the pain didn’t last

And after it was…

We have no idea of knowing

Because we are not dead

Only the dead

Can know the pain of death
And what follows it

News of the death of the man from town spreads throughout town

And a little bit beyond town

But no further than that

It is a minor disruption

In the ordinary days

Of the ordinary people

Who receive the news

And then routines resettle

Laundry goes from the washer to the dryer

Shirts are returned

And other ordinary people

Live and die

. . . . .

A man from town died today

This is his body
This is his home

These are his friends
These are his books

That was his car

That was his job

And that’s all we know

But we’ll sit for awhile

In case anyone comes

Who knows more

In case somebody misses him
Or somebody loved him

Or somebody wants

To tell us

His name