marmoset of men


When I am old
I’ll grow out my hair
I’ll grow out my beard
If it grows at all by then

I’ll look a wild beast
A marmoset of men
And wear old hats that will
be older still
By the time I'm old
By then

I might be fat
when I am old
I might be very thin
In either state
My beard will make
me have a girthy chin

My wife will be dead by then of course
For as long as she’s alive
I'll be a classy gent

With graying hair and sleeker clothes
A cane or two, cigar, I s’pose
A well-liked manner all around

But when she dies
I’ll be unkempt
I’ll be a savage all untrimmed
I’ll smoke ten bowls a day
In a pipe made out of bone
And sit out on stump
And only speak in groans

I’ll set glass bottles on the road
And wooden sailing ships
And tempt the kids with artifacts
They’ll be too scared to pick them up
Or even wander close
But for the few
who do
come through
And aren’t afraid of aged men

whose hair and smoke is far too fused
to discriminate

I’d give them stories about my life
Stolen from books they never read
With a true tale here or there
And then they’d walk away.