You Know You're Past It When
Do I need normal shoes equipped with cleats?
I’m not as steady as I used to be.
The town in which I live has narrow streets: ...
So where’s this poem going? Bear with me!
I’ve always had an eye for pretty girls.
Polite and non-aggressive, if I spied
a fetching face, or shoulders draped in curls,
I used to cross the street. Once on her side,
I wouldn’t pester, leer, or be a pain:
I’d walk on by, not try for conversation.
My face a mask of diffident disdain,
I’d let her dominate the situation.
She’d probably ignore me (often did):
but what if there’s a question? Way to go!
She’s looking for a store that’s selling squid,
or just a joint to grab a cup of Joe!
Striking up a friendship on the hop –
it sometimes works in movies, so it can’t
be fiction! I could steer her to the shop,
all charm and bumble – humbly Hugh Grant!
You never know your luck. A great romance
could flourish for a self-asserting hero!
but though I offered Cupid half a chance,
it never happened once. I’m batting zero.
And now, back to the narrow-streeted city,
whose sidewalks are beyond an urban joke.
We need some kind of citizens’ committee:
the grouting’s gone, the slabs are old and broke,
and cars encroach upon them when they park.
I told you I’m no longer twinkle-toed.
It’s safer (and not merely after dark)
to walk right down the middle of the road!
The other day, I realised I’m old.
I shunned the sidewalk, barbers’ shops and churches
to stride where sandals score a sounder hold,
and grandpa’s feet can get a better purchase.
The flagstones to my right gave up a treat:
a lovely woman – no, in fact – a wonder!
I didn’t shift position in the street,
and Fate could not create a tryst. I shunned her!
The road felt good: I opted for the same,
the surface safe and welcoming and slick:
I chose security and felt no shame,
the asphalt more appealing than the chick!
Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2025
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