you knew what he wasn't

it used to be you

could

tell who a man was by his hands.

the callouses,

the scars,

by the creases

on his face,

the way he walked,

the way

he sat still,

the way he ate, said grace.

the silence

of his voice, unless needed.

life

had worn away the softness

of his skin.

he worked

for a living. he wasn't

a politician.