What old men do

Now my husband reminds me 

of my father. It may be all men 

resemble my father 

when their vital organs wane. 

It may be they all sit for hours

in oversized chairs to read the paper, 

and scold about the wrong turn 
the world has taken

since they were young and quick. 

It may be they all sink 
into long naps

while watching TV mobsters 

and large game 
chow each other down. 

It may be they all 

make grocery shopping 

the high spot of their days, 

and yet each morning, shave, 
fuss with their hair, pat on racy cologne 

and dress to kill.