"Some times I run and hide," he said
at Emotion's Edge, leaving you
to weep alone.

Sometimes I can't muster
Custer Courage
and let fear gain the edge
leaving you
with that puzzlement-
you stare unbelievingly,
uncomprehendingly;
how I could bail
Sentiments Boat
and sail away
leaving you again
on the barren shore?

Think my dear of it this way,
I can't cry in the movies
even though I know you think I should;
I don't feel the same way
about TV shows and soap operas
with sad endings
the way you do.

For me sad comes in other guises
which signal for me losses of another kind
in that same TV land;

but inside a  football game.

When the Old Guy went down
I could have cried
but couldn't and didn't;
you saw it only as a game;
but for me it was life's drama
played out in plain view
with millions looking on:

The Old Guy did his noble best
and the young guys
cracked his bones
and he died that day a noble death;
but he wouldn't lie down.

It was me in the office
or loading trucks
where I see
the young guys
come and call me "pops"
and snicker behind my back;
where even my own kids
see me as old fashioned
and out of touch;
good only for money
and taking out the garbage;
for filling in the photographs;
smiling dad
quiet and sad
brightening up only inside video games
and TV sports.
But no.

Its not that I sometimes run--
its that I see that I cannot
run
the way I used to run
wind in my hair;
and I see yet
I cannot go the Old Guy  way;
he's forty years old and getting back in the game
and I weep tears of joy for him
even as I understand
you don't have a clue who he is
or what he means
to us guys
on the couch
weeping
from the inside
but not out.