Old Man's Hands

They were once fine, long-fingered and aristocratic: photographed resting lightly on a model's shoulder as she wore a mink while clutching a Gucci. In childhood they played like all kids' hands play: clutching, grabbing, throwing, waving to unseen allies while fighting to a gory death hordes of relentless foes. In manhood they sought to caress a woman's flesh rather than play throw and catch... they explored the wondrous nooks and crannies with hunger and hesitancy, always joyfully losing themselves in her eternal unknowingness. They were mighty then, the hands of a young god, giving pleasure in equal measure to its taking... but now their skin lies cracked and shrieking of seven decades-- the fingers are bending like old trees succumbing finally to the brutal wind, with knobs sprouting from joints and a low pain taking up a permanent and most uninvited residence....