The man of last year
is an internal legend
a hero of suburban lawns
The man of last year
is watching the neon
and deciphering the new moon
The man of last year
is taking his pulse
wearing a second-hand fedora
The man of last year
is partially forgotten
he sees you with barren eyes
The man of last year
holds court in the royal recliner
for one small era longer
The man of last year
with his straw hair
and mercury mind
with his mirrored glasses
and clipped diction
with his thin long fingers
and his ruptured voice
The man of last year
is not looking for
a hold out
The man of last year
is already lost
in the almanac's idex
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