The old man and I

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The wind blew hard,
Cars swooshed past;
Bicycles, people, swayed faster,
And he stared.

As we walked along,
The old man with the bristly hair,
Yellow but fair,
He stared;
At me…?
In shock at first;
Soon he realized,
I was real,
Just very dark,
Darker than him,
And so, he stared.

We walked side by side,
Slow, sometimes fast;
Wrinkling the cold kissed skin,
His neck motioned,
Sideways, sideways,
His eyes squinted open,
The old man,
He,
Pretended not to see me.

But together, we
Snuck looks;
One of wonder,
The other of disbelief,
Is he serious?
Can he be mad?
What is he looking at?
I need to pull up my leggings?
Damn, what is it, he wants?
He just keeps looking…
Once in a while;
He gazes,
Into the distance ahead,
His patched coat from winters gone.

Up, up, he climbs the steps faster;
Only to stop, and look down,
One long hard look,
She backs away, irate!
He sighs, unconvinced,
Scoffs almost,
Holding on to his plastic bag;
Chow mien,
 He mumbles on…

Past the high buildings,
With all the lights beaming,
Onto the muddy streets,
We walked;
His back stooped,
Stealing glances,
In acquaintance now,
Connected.
He now understands a truth,
He knows, he has seen,
This person…
Black but with hair;
Just like his wife’s,
She is not bad looking at all,
In fact…
But just look…

And so he stared
One more time
And to the crowd, she was lost.


Comments

  1. Chris MsosaMarch 25, 2012 at 3:48 PM

    Wow..... Even now life surprises you with such absurdities. That man must have a rather limited association with the world outside his own....

    ReplyDelete
  2. Mtendere Alice KishindoMarch 25, 2012 at 7:08 PM

    exactly my point...how can anyone be so limited?

    ReplyDelete

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