Classic Poem

Old men who have studied
every leg show
in the city
Old men cut from touch
by the perfumed music —
polished or fleeced skulls
that stand before
the whole theater
in silent attitudes
of attention, —
old men who have taken precedence
over young men
and even over dark-faced
husbands whose minds
are a street with arc-lights.
Solitary old men for whom
we find no excuses —
I bow my head in shame
for those who malign you.
Old men
the peaceful beer of impotence