Sardines are an old man’s breakfast
and a young man’s lunch -
if he eats them at all,
with lettuce and chips
and a glass of beer
between meetings,
on the run to teleconferencing
without brushing his teeth
or poring over spreadsheets
in green-shaded light.
Old men savor the bone-picking
with tongue-clicking approval
and sop the oil with pinches of bread,
lingering over the morning paper
droplet on ink of editorial ads,
and taste a bit of scotch - single-malt
to start a day of walking
in the park of memories
and the next project within the house
of years and soul.
Old women feed sardines to cats
and those on the bench mumble to the birds.
and a young man’s lunch -
if he eats them at all,
with lettuce and chips
and a glass of beer
between meetings,
on the run to teleconferencing
without brushing his teeth
or poring over spreadsheets
in green-shaded light.
Old men savor the bone-picking
with tongue-clicking approval
and sop the oil with pinches of bread,
lingering over the morning paper
droplet on ink of editorial ads,
and taste a bit of scotch - single-malt
to start a day of walking
in the park of memories
and the next project within the house
of years and soul.
Old women feed sardines to cats
and those on the bench mumble to the birds.