He's about 22. I'm 63
A pity! He's so pretty!
He runs up the stairs.
I climb step by step.
We've never really met, and yet
If I could stop him, what would I say?
"How's my young man today?"
Absurd! He'd give the sweet unspecial smile
You give a sweet unspecial child.
At most, some gingham word.
He's slightly effete, completely elite,
His grace unsurpassed, a young prince at mass.
My cardiac wheezing is frantic and panting.
He's enchanting!
Why was he born so late,
And I so soon?
A turn of chance
The nearest happenstance,
But move, if you're that
Upset.
Then I won't know if I fit,
Whether to sit back and
Sit, or quit altogether.
To wit.
Do I have it, or is it gone?
Do I still belong? Can I bluff?
Suppose he turns schoolboy-tough?
Oh, it's all too much!
Look, get his name from the mailbox
And see if he's in the book.
Well, it won't hurt to look.
Here it is.
Then phone. If he's divine,
He's probably at home, a "want-to-be-alone"
My God, he is home!
6D? 6C.
I'm so sorry but my zipper's caught,
With my hair in it.
Yes, it is ridiculous,
But would you? For just a minute?
Come in. The doors unlocked.
God! He glows! And even younger than I thought.
You knew all that before.
You're becoming a bore.
But how can I reach him?
Teach him, then beseech him.
He seems a little scattered.
How does it really matter? At 22, at 63,
Any eccentricity?
But will it all be left to me?
Certainly.
That's the idea.
Breathe heavily
(Asthma with rhythm)
You mean, a mini-cataclysm?
Yes. More or less.
Relax. It isn't worth the
Sweat. Don't forget, its luck, not skill.
He's virile?
Puerile.
How droll.
But better droll than cold, and no reason for
distress. Last night
You had far less.
You're right.
Last night the futile-victory
The lonely ecstasy
The peakless summit
The remote spasm
The chasm, the gap,
the hi without the hoe.
Tonight I might not touch the sky
But I'll be on tippy-toe.
So,
Burgeoning 22,
Ripening 63,
Enjoying your buoyancy.
Whisper triumphantly,
"Merci, Merci."
(Or less jubilantly, "Mercy!")
Notes
The compasison/contrat between youth and age is phenomenal in this poem.
