A Study in Frustrations

The old man stands, and chatters through his gums

Words and saliva. . . . Little gusts of pain

Blow through the phrases. ... Eyes that search for

crumbs...

Ears that are starved for praise. . . . And then again

Those words, those eager words, " When I was young!"

(All lives are sentimental in the end.)

"The great would taste my name upon their tongue

And roll it over, proud to call me friend."

The old man chatters on. His sentences

Warm the old blood like whiskey. All the tired

Hours forgotten, all the lean slow days.

"When I was young!" Drunk with a clause. Inspired.

Under the boasts he feels our pity. So

It was when he was young. He knows we know.