Walking the Met

On his way out of the Met
I saw an old man leaning heavily on a cane.
He had walked much of the largest art museum in America

A young man, passing,
Touched him lightly,
Causing the old man to lose balance and fall.

Straightening himself,
Insisting no damage had been done,
He accepted the young man's apology,
And resumed his awkward shuffle to the exit.

I would have chosen a wheelchair
So that people like me would not show
A mix of pity and sympathy.

Of course I might have rationalized
Some ultimate meaning to his museum visit,
Or concluded the trip wasn't important enough
To make the effort,