The wrinkles on his face
whispered about the good times,
about his first love and his last...
all the late night calls and dinner dates
they laughed about the tractor races
that left him in the mud
and footprints on the wooden floor
causing ringing in his ears

his calloused hands run slowly along his jaw
as a scar recalled a fight for respect
and how all he gained was a bloody towel.
A lesson on how friends always coincides with foolishness...
but they convinced him he didn't want it any other way.

His fingers danced across the lines in his arms
trying to remember the steps to a salsa
he once wooed the lady's with.
They gossiped with his cheeks about
face slaps and lip stick kisses,
never knowing which would come first

They teased about the arm wrestling match were he lost all of his money
and about the high fives he always missed
they shared the story of the first time he shared a cigarette
and the last one he ever had

They spilled about the secrets he kept,
reminding him
that even though he is laying on starched sheets
it will never take away from
the wrinkles on his face