your turn will come

an old man
pokes me with his cane,
telling me
to move up in line, get off
your phone
he says.
it's your turn,
you look at him, at his cane,
his hat.
his face
a road map
of life lived.
he's tired of waiting,
he wants
his coffee now.
you tell him
to go ahead of you,
which he does.
your turn
will come.