I have not learned how to sit still,
**** it, I never will.  Nor have I learned
How not to wave my arms when I speak;
By now I should know some words
For the mourners’ congregation by the gravestone;
Not me.

I hate drum-rolls and ******* guitar licks
That blasts in the frozen food section.  
I cannot just ignore Spider-man movies,
I’d rather descend to the ninth rung of hell.
Hogs eat corn, "Je n’aime pas le popcorn",
Hippo gluttony in fields of river plants
Chomp, chomp, chomp...

Teenagers chewing gum, taking selfies-
Where is the love, where is the love?
I can’t talk to Siri without cursing.
Who cares who wins the football game?
Could I see a beautiful woman
And not undress her in my mind?

Sorry, it’s the meds.  What have I learned
But "blessed be patience"
Which I interpret as
The world is too busy with its traffic of red ants-
Stand aloof, keeping out of their path.
  
I go to join the cult of crazies in the park,
Muttering metaphors to keep us off the drink,
Winding our watches, feeding birds,
Headphones blasting requiems of Pergolesi,
As the young ones keep their distance.