Bespectacled Man

When I find I have become the bespectacled man,
it is, because it is fitting,
without any sense of regret.
As I wait among the dancers at the studio for my own,
in the calm eye of their ceaseless storm of sparrowbanter,
it is pleasant to feel apart,
a part of the unconsidered furniture of their day,
playing an outmoded game on an outmoded telephone. 
No one, they say,
if they say it at all, no one, and it is true.
How peaceful to be so undisturbed until she comes out,
tired, whom I may ferry
tiredly, happily home.

February 1 2013