airport shoeshine.

Bent like an upside-down J,
glasses slip down
off the shiny forehead
of the little old man who
shines shoes at the airport.

Rub rub shine
rub shine shine
shine shine rub
rub rub rub.
All day long
rub rub rub.

The broad-shouldered suit
sits high in his chair
looking down upon the
hunching figure before him
and grumbles about the noise
from the rub rub rubbing
of the shoe shine rag.

The suave business man
and his business man shoes,
now as glassy as the old man's head,
mutters a thanks and blends into
the late-afternoon procession.

The crowd slows,
and the little old man
gathers his kit
and totters out to the bus stop
where his little old lady wife
waits with a smile.
It's the brightest thing
shoeshine man has seen all day.

Where does he go
when the day is done?
He goes home
to scrub scrub scrub
at the tarnished tips
of his old man fingers.