Sad Substitute
Those eyes, that mouth reminded me of Glenn,
My friend of forty years now gone. The hair,
Though, wasn’t crinkly thick. This specimen
Was balding on the top, the strands too spare
And thin to be a substitute for my
Young man of fourteen thousand nights ago.
The Glenn-like span of flesh from neck through thigh
Was strong, and since this new young male was so
Absorbed in scholarship about some slight,
Arcane religious controversy, he
Might just as well have been a Brinsmeadite
Keying in crank laptop notes surreally.
No, no! He can’t be Glenn’s latter-day twin.
He doesn’t have the snaggle-toothy grin.