His Father Didn't Want a Funeral

With the eyedrops in, he looked
Like he was crying, looking out onto
A sea of immobile buses
With his eyes closed.

The wind had picked up,
As if its father had just died.
We watched the old men
Who sat like pieces of
A disassembled watch,

Each of them wearing a red scarf,
As though it was their birthday.

The tears rolling down his face
As he held his bags,
Carefully packed for the long ride away