"Old men ought to be explorers"

Moving outside the lines,
a shirtless young man
with a shatterproof air
of casual indifference and
Caravaggio’s boy-angel wings
skateboards the steps
of Union Square park.
I watch,
contained
inside my solitude,
as he circumnavigates
the crowd without touching it.

Closing my eyes,
I think of sailing.

I think of deep water,
and drifting, and the waves,
and the ocean tides
pulling me down.

Opening my eyes, I look
in vain for cracks
in his casual facade.