The Longing Look

Closets were made for clothes,
But now, humans need them more than most.
He walks down the dreaded path of alienation,
Like so may who went before him.
The sun shines on him like everyone else,
The girl in front with massive boobs looks just as lustrous
And Conniving.
His dreams, however, were vastly different.
He had never experimented in college.
Forty-six was a bad time to be lonely,
But the future never held up anything good.
The rum and coke from last night was now down in the gutter,
Worms swirling through it in arid blackness;
They could be as mobile as they would like.
Squirting a look around, he walks with his head held low;
The concrete beneath provides little more than friction.
Walking needs to comprise looking up and, like always, he complies;
A man in a red hat walks down the road.
He looks as happy as can be.
Here, he struggles to fight the friction and stands transfixed;
He is not in a drag.
The man with the hat runs away,
Our man in here still waiting for the sun to shine.
"Fuck it,", he says, and mundanely moves on as the kids
Kick a football into his ass.
That was a millionth longing look, and he still needed no glasses.