I know the old man who fell in love with night, when his face became too old and ugly to be seen during the day, Who doesn't remember chasing dreams and frogs down to the creek, through grasses thickly covered with the dew of youth, his feet caked with mud grass worms life, Who long ago followed girls through now nameless playgrounds, playing cops and robbers, showing off, painting a map of himself in the sand, Who once had more light in his eyes than could be found in the great city of New York, filled with hopefulness unmatched by any seven year old, Who at one time possessed the ability to charm any mother daughter wife sister cousin, flawlessly executing well practiced lines, read to himself in his mirror hour after hour before leaving home, Who once cowered in hotel bathroom corners, tying it tighter, pushing it farther, doing it one last time over and over and over, attempting to drown out the sounds, Who cried out, from rooftops and freight trains, to whatever God that would listen, damning her for killing hurting poverty war, damning himself for letting it matter, Who witnessed empty life and lonely death a hundred times, yet never decided that it was all a joke, never realized that life was meant to be lived, Who wasted years building status, building success, building hollow structures, useless structures, waiting for a final straw, a revelation, to tear it all down. Who wasted years searching for a dream he couldn't find. I know the old man who forgot how to chase frogs and dreams; the old man who forgot what mattered, writing reading scamming creating learning touching teaching running jumping exploring going trying seeing splashing loving living being, Who forgot that life could be beautiful once he started to break free. I know this man and I know his eyes, full of regret over so many years passed, but somehow not experienced, an example of a life gone wrong.