The People's Poet Tony Robles–SF Art commission award winning Author of cool don't live here no more and fingerprints of a hunger strike

Octogenarian

Advertisements

Octogenarian
By Tony Robles

He wears thick sweaters
With subdued colors
And his eyelids are
Pink and moist like a
Bulldog

He has all his teeth
and hair and eats
Tuna sandwiches for
Lunch at a café owned
By a Japanese woman

He still has his albums
From the old days and
Has just bought a new
Record player

He likes standards
And can play the
Harmonica on request

When he gets on the
Bus, he nods in the
Presence of women
And says
Ladies

If they ignore him
He smiles and says
Going Hollywood on me, huh?

His father used to
Have a horse in the
Old days when the area
Was natural and rustic

Before the
Developers

Now he takes the
Bus and rides a bike
But he fell off the bike
Injuring his elbow

He says he’s an
Octogenarian and I
Ask him what that means
And he tells me that it means
He’s 80 years old

We sit on the bus
Together and he shows
Me his scabbed elbow

He says he put rubbing
Alcohol on it when
The wound was fresh

Then I told him that it
Reminded me of the old cowboy
Movies when men would pour
Whiskey over their gunshot
Wounds before dying

A waste of
Good whiskey,
He said

© 2010 Tony Robles

Advertisements

Advertisements