Two men.
Two old men.
Not so old, not so old.
Treadworn step, careful
coat?
Shrinking from the
splash
of noise from the road?
Wandering home
from the minute one
leaves it?
Two old men.
Two old men.
Fine deerskin gloves
and a wisp of cigar,
Claret and scandal
and chevron raised
brows,
Picking through friends
like gossip-spiked
toffees.
Not so old, not so old!
Two men
Two men
meeting for dinner
on a smoked afternoon.
The rain and their
years
Closet them up together,
Playing chess
without a board.
No comments:
Post a Comment