My 48th Birthday     
 
the wife and I go to a concert
Fitz and the Tantrums opening for O.A.R
at a little outdoor venue in downtown Pittsburgh
a man and woman     mid-thirties I’d guess
stand in front of us     both wearing ear plugs
fucking lame     but probably smart
Fitz is belting out their poppy rock tunes
my head is bobbing     toes tapping
lips in motion with the words but little sound escapes
the girl in front of us
arms crossed     a little grin     slight movement
her companion
arms flailing     legs kicking     no regard
or rhythm     possessed movement
my wife side-eyes me     and I smirk
no signs of inebriation
no signs of awareness of other’s eyes
this motherfucker is crazy
28-year-old me would’ve been laughing
judging his ridiculousness
48-year-old me          is chuckling
but loves it
I stand here     afraid to move too much
as if cool fucking matters
I pretend not to give a shit     of other’s thoughts
     The easiest lie to tell
          Is the one we tell ourselves
midway through the set     the woman leaves
and never returns     he never stops dancing
never a look of     ‘wonder where she went?’
     just keeps on keeping on
my wife is concerned     that it was a date
and the woman abandoned him     she’s concerned
that maybe there’s something wrong with him
          (maybe)
I don’t feel bad for him
I don’t want to judge him     besmirch him
I wanna fucking be him

 

Five middle-aged dudes in line at Punk’s Ice Cream Parlor
 
at 4:30 in the afternoon
on a Tuesday
spread out evenly
Not together
No wives
No children
each fitting a type
Biker   Construction Worker
Camo-clad Outdoorsman
Coach Dad     Gym Rat
Village People-Esque
if they weren’t apparently strangers
 
and me
dumbfounded
driving by at 45mph
after work
sucking on
a banana split Dum Dum lollipop
trying to decide
if I like it