MAN ON A STREET CORNER

By John Herlihy

I
Through the magic of false intimacy,
Induced by the wizardry of Facebook,
I was asked if I were in sympathy,
Inclined to add someone to my datebook.
I was surprised to be asked such a question,
From a match-maker with no right to suggestion.

II
I am just a man on a street corner,
With shabby trousers, scruffy shoes.
I watch the world go by like a foreigner,
Hoping for happiness in ones and twos.
Simple things give me satisfaction,
I have no great need for distraction.

III
In fact, I have been branded old in years.
Inside I felt betrayed and awash in tears,
By a youth-crazed society made increasingly bold.
No one wants to turn their head in wonder
At a man on a street corner without any thunder,
Nodding their heads as though looking for plunder.

IV
The next time an internet friend bids you good day,
Be wary what next he may have to say.
For all you know, he may be in someone’s pay,
Looking for a victim to drag into the fray.
I go about my business with no desire to stray,
A man on a street corner with nothing to say.