Old

I

And maybe it's the shortened days of Winter That make me think that time speeds ahead. Or maybe its the years that I've accrued That make me feel like I'm already dead. Never enough time to run all of the errands. Keep the cupboards full, keep the car running, Keep full with the light of clever achievement. Here: keep score as we lose yet another inning. The words I scratch out fade on yellowed sheets My work weighed down with crufty fetters I see my potency pass by my potential. Lost in a storm of kerning and letters. II You're so old that you showed up at the club dancing the Charleston. You're so old that you keep your money under the mattress because you’re afraid of “Another” run on the banks. You’re so old that you remember the taste of original formula coke. You’re so old that you drive a car, but bemoan the days of a leisurely ride to church on your horse. You're so old that when the cops came to break up the craps game you shouted, “Alarum! ‘Tis the Constabulary!” You're so old that you text on a rotary phone. You’re so old that you eat your pie with a slice of cheese. You’re so old that you buy your soda at a drugstore. You’re so old that after you use the bathroom you start looking for a chain and get confused at the buttons on the top of the toilet. You're so old that you think that color films are “Gaudy.” III Eerie. Does this mean that it's that time In life when there are more endings Than beginnings? That the rime Of age begins to weigh on the living? We are so god-damned young, yes. And the young are certainly god-damned. IV I’m falling apart! Literal chunks falling off as I hobble down the street. It’s alarming, but no one seems to know what to do. Myself, least of all. The cobblestones rattle my bones until they become undone and clatter upon the paving stones. My sedentary flesh slaps along as I crawl to my destination Of nowhere in particular. The names I’ve forgotten, the words left unbegotten. Inauspicious year! You’ve killed me without killing me. I lay in state clutching a bundle of chrysanthemums While my friends and family walk past and tap on the glass And relate news stories and lay down graphs And say, “See! See?” “Uh-huh,” I affirm and nod my head. The rest of my body paralyzed and decaying. V Embrace love fuck De-unify fire-red kennings burden clairvoyance Pushing Pershing forgotten Perish pusillanimous pussy Careful bared-teeth fellowship shit-show At the persistent palace of pity pants And panting panties prancing pudendum Passionate prerogative painting Lust love-lorn lame Incapable unable unstable impotent Puerile penile forestall Insane portend End of the Lane Pain and hope Home Very Very near now. VI