55

by Mike Meraz

fifty-five, he looks like
he's forty-five
lifting those weights.
Marlon Brando eyes,
standing there
in a white t-shirt,
against a screen
looking at me
with such indifference.

I do not recognize him.

his heart usually beats loud,
and his face always shines
with fatherly love.
but on this day
with the weight of death,
loss and the drama
of new love
resting on his shoulders,
he looks at me for once
and does not smile.

I do not recognize him.