The Man Who Cannot Retire

He danced and waved in the drizzle and wind The man who can’t retire Headlights shone on him Like bulging eyes of the night Lengthened the comic shadow of his royal turban Onto the woods and yonder into the far beyond The man who once guarded a nation’s frontiers Outside a restaurant, on the thorny fringe of the road In the chill, his knees and heels misbehaved Like obstinate kids who refuse to be roused Out of slumber, unable to open laden eyes Seventy years of privations weighed His steps were stiff and rigid But dance and wave at passers by He had to, that is the boss's bidding The owner of the restaurant Who had his eyes in the stars And dreamed of eternal stampede At his grand portal on the road An ailing wife, two daughters Abandoned by their reckless men Their screaming kids had to be fed The dancer couldn’t simply retire The man who once guarded a nation’s frontiers The boss had said He could have hired Pretty lasses for the work But in a land of predators And foraging cannibals He couldn’t place them on the road To bring in prospective customers Men retired from service Was therefore the right choice So dance like them the hired hand must If he wished to keep his bread No matter how old he was Even if his feet were bare And badly tattered his royal attire The dancer wished he could pause Move into the shadow of the gate Ease his stiffening gait Light a beedi, puff at it Look at the stars that rode the trees But who knows there isn’t A cop lurking in the dark Engaged in overkill On smoking ban for a petty bribe And then there always is The boss with a thousand eyes From anywhere any time he can spot Any dereliction on the part of his staff Old days were perhaps good In the trenches on the frontiers When the rum in the vein Ruled men’s actions When panic moved triggers The stink of sweat and boot Didn’t matter And which way death came A bullet, a shrapnel or grenade Or perhaps an unseen bayonet from behind When deep in the trench he lay With other soldiers over-frayed His wife and kids a memory half-erased Like the moon of the day Looking at the winter sky Thinking why men fought and killed Over disputes on geographical lines On a planet that belonged to none He knew perhaps there were men Like him in trenches across the line Who thought on similar lines Wished to stand up and embrace Throwing their guns to winds But that was not to be For fear was the key Any movement across the line Be that the wriggle of a roach The finger on the trigger should broach Fear is the key, yes, fear is the key His bread, come what may, he must keep Dance he should till his feet did bleed In the rain, chill and wind The pathos should ensure Footfalls in the restaurant The man who can’t retire The man who once guarded a nation’s frontiers