One Poem

Tynan DeLong

QUIET MEN

i am part of a small group of men that show up early and alone for things || you know us when you see us || at the cinema, 20 minutes before the new Kaurismaki, the only people in the room || we curl up under our solitude like blankets, each of us in our favorite seats - you could draw a triangle between our glowing palms || one of us pulled out a borrowed book to pass the time, another sipped coffee || no, this seat is not taken, it is never taken || we are respectful, we do not talk, not even during the previews || or at the arts space, waiting for Basinski to take the stage, leaning on cold concrete walls to give our aching bodies a rest || we stake out our small pieces of land and when we abandon our plots for water, our backpacks stand in as companions holding our spot || or at the Bowery, we dance in place while a constellation of revelers surrounds us || the couples bump our arms || our personal space gets rearranged || and we just smile when someone spills beer on our shoes || but we like it here || lonesome maybe, but never lonely || we are prompt, we have specifc interests, we are men of a certain age || we know each other through distance, but we will never know each other’s names