Most of the time I’m zonked
maybe more often than I might want
here between high and dizzy
tired of looking busy
waiting to see what comes my way
9:11 comes twice a day
Look in the mirror: what do you see
a distinguished gentleman, what’s left of me
a formerly handsome young man,
gray hair, gray beard, wrinkles, laugh lines,
crow’s feet, bags... Why go on?
Grunting, groaning, ache all over,
Moving slowly, bent and stiff
No use trying to ignore
that throbbing, shooting pain
in my elbow, in my wrist,
there it goes again
in my ankle, in my hip
I’m occupying space,
not doing much at a steady pace,
treading water, riding it out
for Now, which is all we’ve got
Most of the time
in bed at nine
reading time
conk out by ten
sleep till eight
lounge in bed
get up late
and start again
No goal, no productivity,
drinking vodka, smoking weed,
writing verses, cooking dinner
anchovies, butter, cheese and cream
garlic, capers, medium heat
I don’t expect you youngsters here
to understand, but if you can,
my bladder’s shot, the plumbing leaks
an endless stream or more a trickle
with brief pauses in between
marking out my territory
or so it seems
It’s not what you expect to hear
but never fear!
Money’s not a problem
we have plenty
our friendly neighborhood ATM provides
an unlimited supply of twenties
