Men at 80
His back bows
to the weight of his years
He shuffles to where
the groove of his leather chair
awaits
to cradle
his tired bones
The beat of a Bosa Nova
fills the room.
His eyes fold inward
Gray stubbled chin rests
against his chest
But his feet…
His feet dance
with bikini-clad girls
On the sun drenched sands
of an Acapulco beach.