THE OLD MAN NEEDS A CANE

He staggers when he walks,

listing to one side like a ship

in distress about to send an SOS.

His neighbors think he’s drunk.

Addicted to attending Garage Sales

with his Italian buddy, he passed up

many opportunities to buy canes.

His superstitious friend insisted

it would be a bad omen—Malocchio!,

he would shout.

The old man often thought about

the unique canes he could have scored.

A knotty blackthorn shillelagh,

a silver swan walking stick,

a brass navy diver’s helmet

on a beechwood shaft,

and a chrome lion handle cane.

Instead, he walks with a closed umbrella,

feeling foolish on sunny days.