an elegy for a banker

walden freeman

standing in two cities at once our shy hero spoke of protecting the innocent. "give me every dime minted in denver" he said to colleagues, and saved them rolled up in his attic. now the leaves hang from the trees, dead. perhaps due to depression from a change in weather. you were born and lived and eventually had to leave, but your memory lives on in some of us and that's the only afterlife i've come to believe in. happy birthday this week.