Smitten Old Man

SMITTEN OLD MAN High school year book, 47 I’m not a gad looking guy – Short hair, sport coat, tie This remembered as I gaze across the room She’s sitting at a table near the wall, Lap top open, ear phones, late and all She wears a sleeveless blouse On a cookie now I’m nibbling, But, my God, her arm! What’s that scribbling? From distance the appendage looks solid black Is she weird, some sort of voodoo? “No, you idiot!” I laugh. “Just a tattoo.” Through her tangled blond hair a streak of purple, No cosmetics improve the sallow face, Clothes, by 40s standards, a national disgrace I’m smitten – chair seat a bed of nails, Arthritis rebels, bony hands clutch - This modern generation, it’s just too much! Dave Austin