When he was a college kid, he had a summer
job delivering milk to homes, back in the day

when they actually delivered glass-bottled
milk to homes. He remembers carefully

placing the bottles in the coolers on the door
stoops in neighborhoods when people were

cooking breakfast. He remembers the delicious
smell of bacon frying on the stoves in those

homes. He stood at the stove frying bacon
thinking about that summer job realizing that

most of the people in those homes getting ready
for work had died. As the delightful aroma of

bacon sizzling hit him, the reality of the brevity
of life followed close behind. He wondered if any-

one passing by the house on that summer morning
with the windows open smelled the bacon as he

had so many years ago and in a few years pass by
again and acknowledge that he, too, had died.