in a summer dress

who would want me,
he says, stroking the brush
against
a window sash.
i'm done with women,
with love.
sex.
I've had my fun, my
share
of that.
i'm an old man now, past
my prime.
who would want me, he
says,
playing with his grey
beard
and staring out
at a young woman walking by
in her summer dress.
his eyes on her
until she turns the corner
and disappears.