40s

A character sketch.
Feels more like an epitaph for a friend, at this point.

40s
a man on furlough
sliced in two
40s
Glenn Miller and the Army Air Force band
blaring out of his record player
lifeguard fatigues in a foot locker
at the head of his bed
he aches for a time when
men were men
chivalry and vinegar
piss and honor
cigarettes were homerolled
and men drove ships and sticks
he's got the annotated Sherlock Holmes
bleeding dust on his chest
muted trumpets bluesing
to the rhythm of his snoring
while his Droid charges
Droid does
and he loves it
forty more years
he'll Google it in his forearm
a man cut in two
40s
one in each hand
he laughes
smashes them on the ground
real men drink Black Velvet
on the rocks
freezer-chilled
in tight jeans
and a fist-pumping black muscle T
foot on the bumper
of his '65 Ford Fairlane
this is a bass player
the rhythm and soul of a punk band
he will kick your ass backstage
then take his girlfriend
to a nice lobster dinner
to talk Casablanca
and genetic replication
he's old school
it's not that he can't do one night stands
he just like to cuddle
sex with girlfriends
just feels better
this is the old man
who never met the nursing home
he and the old lady
still shoot geese
from their cabin on the lake
they go to church on Sundays
they get down after Bingo
and move at two miles an hour through Costco
so, so carefully
holding each other's hand
they block the entire aisle
but you smile
when you're stuck behind them
fuck it
they're too cute
this is that guy
in the 40s
kickin ass on a Saturday night
the airman on weekend leave
killing Jack and his friends
his beard
his lifejacket
his knapsack
his swimsuit
straight 40s
his cellphone
his soundsystem
his laptop
straight 40s
a century apart
and from what lies between
he kept only the best music
to jump around
because he stays in shape
he swims sprints --
and runs 40s