Impotence
The day I was fifty –nine I remember well woke up
Without an ******* and my golden mane had vanished
I looked like a shaggy tiger.
I contemplated God, the devil and the food I ate but
Could not get an answer that I was at the threshold
Of old age that held no promises in its greedy arms
*** had lost its spontaneity will it stand up and if it
Does will it remain so until the act is over?
I didn't venture out in the night picking up strange dames
Nibbling at ears was over, my god how much ear wax
I must have swallowed
Gave up the charade at 70 and I found freedom in
Not having to try, but was ok with reading a book