Sunday poem: "The Full Measure of the Man"

The Full Measure of the Man

Such was my insight into Tony`s

life as he ate his Bucatini in homemade

marinara sauce, followed by a potful

of mussels, all washed down with three

glasses of wine, all the while telling me

stories of his life in Italy and Canada;

and I listened with excited attention

to my good neighbor and friend, whose

life was so fraught with experience and

meaning that I had to wonder why his

children could not see the full measure

of the man before me who had come

to this strange new country to forge

a life for himself; and when he finished

dinner (I dropped over with a generous

piece of Ontario peaches pie that my

love had just taken out of the oven),

he made us a nice cup of Espresso that

he always drank straight (very much

like he lived his life) and I with a tiny

spoonful of sugar and drop of Anice,

and I smiled to myself when my muse

spoke to me: when you get to know one

person well, you know the whole world;

and I left my neighbor and good friend

more sated by my company than with his

Bucatini and mussels while I basked in

the afterglow of my new insight.