rolling thunder on a Wednesday afternoon

While driving home from work yesterday

the funeral home [whose parking lot is normally empty] was packed with motorcycles

and immediately I wanted to join the growing crowd, camera in hand

and leaning against the side of the white brick building were about fifty American flags

not just any flags, HUGE flags - the kind that you hang outside of your door on the Fourth of July

and just beyond the collection of red white and blue

stood four men - two on either side of the funeral home door

three of the four were rapidly chewing gum

all black leather and ripped jean clad

all four with long gray frizzy beards and bandannas around their heads

each holding an American flag, standing at attention on either side of the doorway.

The animated crowd continued to grow outside.

I wish I could say I stopped and sat on the curb across the street

close enough to smell the pavement and make out the tiny rocks 

that remind me of riding my bike when I was little - the inevitable skinned knee.

I wish I could say I saw the casket - drapped in an American flag, of course

I wish I could say I saw the pride in the pallbearers eyes as they walked through the guarded doorway

I wish I could say I heard the roar of the motorcycle engines, rumbling in my chest

and I wish I could say I watched them proudly ride away a sea of waving American flags.

Mostly I wish he could have seen it, too.