The 26 Second Avenue Summer of 1966

Don’t reject the wisps of the past.
I once met Swamiji alone on the street,
going to his apartment.
I was so new he called me “Steve.”
Up the stairs.  He gets his key out.
Opens the door and we both go in.
No one else is around.

“I want to become a trustee,” I say,
referring to a plan he had mentioned:
For forty dollars a month
you would get privileges in his society,
books, etc.  It sounded good,
so I paid a month down.

I think he gave me a receipt.
He was wearing an American sweatshirt
of red or peach color
and he pulled it over his head.
I noticed his protruding belly.
He sat at his place.
I was shy and ready to leave.
Then he said, “You are a young man,
you will live a long time.
I am an old man, I won’t live as long.
So you should use your life for Krishna consciousness.”
It was too much for me to hear.
People I knew didn’t talk about death.
So I said, “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean
that you won’t live longer than me.”
“That’s in unusual cases,” he said,
“but normally a young man outlives an old man.”
And so I became a trustee,
and had an exchange
with this very unusual, saintly person
who brought the Hare Krishna mantra
and the brick-colored Bhagavatam
and his “Society” for Krishna consciousness.
Prabhupada, do I make too much
of one barely remembered moment?
Or do I make too little of it?
I don’t know if I’ll live as long as you did.
Will I be able to give myself to Krishna
and to others, as you did?
That’s what you are waiting to see:
it’s what you asked me to do
the day I paid forty dollars
and became a trustee.