Old Age Romance

His palms are resting place

The hair above the neck curled

He shouts:

'I will be born of a hatching machine if I can; not of woman.'

Lightening in the sky of his eyes; nimbus clouds on his lips

Sea waves on his forehead and he roars

Wind in mountains, not a lion anymore:

'Yes, I would and...'

In my mind, I see him, his past.

Forty years march on the screen, the jokes, and fights for fun.

Nothing is the same

Whiter than normal is his small false teeth.

Words shiver slipping through them:

'She cheated me...'

'She' alternates between girlfriend and wife.

A seventeen-year-old-relation with a girlfriend; married with a wavy life.

It is nothing, not at all, simply nothing, invisible ether, and fog in the sun.

Wife has just found out

He wrote to her 'You don't deserve a Pilot and General, live with that cripples tailoring labor.'

He talks of his married lover of years; not of the wife.

'I wrote to all of her Facebook friends too.'

His arms two wings; they separate and flap

They fan the flame; his corpse fire.

Flames grow high, tall, taller; taller.

He evaporates, a drop in a hot oven

Torn between two women

'I'll never touch a woman, ever.'

He is furnace, fire, colorful, outside frozen snow.

Scarlet flames turn yellow then smoke and death.

'Love at old age betrays.'

I believe what I'd heard.