Monday, December 31, 2012

The Old Man and I



I look him in the eye, I forget his wrinkles and then I focus on his smile, his teeth misaligned, few missing and his hair white, as though morning dews have frozen on hay. He chewed doma and had he been of my age, no wonder that man would have many lovers pulling off vampire fantasy for my generation bimbos. I wonder about his tales, tales of glory, tales of failure and tales of mere struggle.