Many Old Men Surround Me
They follow me at poetry groups
show up at open mics
Behind me on the sidewalk
they hobble quick to catch up
Old men sit in the booth
one over, listen to me talk
politely nod “Good bye”
when I leave the restaurant
Gray haired drivers slow
me down in the 40 mile per hour zones
force me to pass them
stare disapproval as I blur home
Never had a grandpa,
Now life surrounds me with them
Butterscotch candies in their sweater pockets
Smiles flash multicolored teeth
Hands, soft, rubbed shinny smooth
spotted with liver marks wave hello
Perhaps these men
never had a daughter
shannon p. laws 