old guys’ sunday

 

The old guys come, chairs fill up with them
waiting for something to happen,
admiring each other’s cars and bikes,
shaking their heads at the occasional trike

In long white hair and earrings they sit
among their children who argue
on smartphones about stupid shit,
told with the rolling of eyes

The guys share stories about nothing in particular,
leaning in to hear them over the rumble,
a laugh and a latte and then it’s over,
they move out, great rolling thunder,
surprised by their own speed

5 thoughts on “old guys’ sunday

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