Two Pals

As I wait in line to board the 17 tram

A man barges past, followed closely by his pal

As he barges past -- it will be his last! --

The smell of piss and alcohol rubs onto my coat

As I board at last, my eyes seek out the pair,

The minor road rage of men beyond a certain age

Infects my better self and soon my eyes lock on target, a pair of seats;

There they sit, whispering, conferring about some escapade

No sooner had my eyes rested on and convicted

That hapless drunkard pair --

40, 50 years of age, stubble and greased face --

The doors open and they hop off the stairs 

And are already on open urban ground 

All ready for the lights to go green

So they can run with unexpected speed -- 

And then it hits me.

Like a painful sorrow scream

Like curtain torn in two

My eyes can suddenly see

In front of me -- literally! -- are two chubby kids

They have been friends since kindergarden

Clear as the day, and still in a way

Having the time of their lives

And then I realise:

Whatever layers of age are thrown at them

Children will always be children

It is only the pain that is of men.