I SMILE AT WOMEN
On The Street
If they are young and pretty
they do not smile back at me
because at seventy years of age,
to them I am not just risible
I am completely invisible.
If she is more than a bit mature
our eyes might meet in a flirty greet
and ignite a mutual allure;
as we pass exchanging smiles
her upward curling lips beguile.
Then I puff up ...
It must be the way I'm dressed
Blue blazer, tan slacks neatly pressed.
Crisp shirt with a nautical tie-
Sailboat, with its spinnaker high.
Maybe she smiled at me
Because something is askew..
Are my pants unzipped? Or ripped?
Is something stuck upon my shoe?
Did she smile at something I should rue?
It is just two old folks
who can still remember
the joys of May in December