old man

i remember thinking
how brave he was, saying what he
wanted,
yelling in a restaurant for
someone to close the
goddamn door
as a cold wind blew in.
he was old.
at an age that i'm fast approaching.
but he didn't care
anymore
in being quiet, being unheard.
speaking his mind,
not suffering fools gladly.
not to say he wasn't good,
or wasn't kind,
just fed up with the fakeness
of so many,
having endured
so many lies. he was torching
every rotted
bridge he crossed.
the veil had lifted,
and now
his voice
was heard, for better
or worse for those that
he was around.