Child Inside the Man

There are days when I just want to hug everyone like when I was a child. But, as I grew older, I realized some people smell bad and shouldn't be embraced. The child inside me emerges when I'm hungry and gobble down food, using both hands, slurping down whatever liquid is available. I create crumbs, stains, and deep burps, only caring about my immediate needs.
If I see a child fall off a tricycle my memory brings me back to those days when I, too, would fall and just lay on the sidewalk with no one to pick me up. I impulsively rush over and help that fallen child, bringing it to its feet with comforting words.
But this is 2014 and immediately a police car pulls up and I'm questioned for touching someone else's kid.
I sometimes lie in bed dreaming of my future just like when I was a kid. Then I look down at my wrinkled body and realize I don't have much of a future. I will probably die alone in a furnished room surrounded by my books and grocery lists I can't decipher.
There is one parallel between the child within and the older man--neither of us can pee straight.