It  seems  crazy  sometimes,
just  trying  to  stay  positive
or ­ maybe  I  have  reached  my
limit of pretending to be normal.

Eating cereal with a fork since
the late 70's, a ragged collection
of wild ghosts that offend Heaven
with wanton paganism.

Looking for a peaceful place to
scream in terror at the realization
so many years are gone, going so
fast and I can't get them back.

I am old and gray and bald, and
walk with a cane. blinking my eyes
again and I am a great grandfather.

And I recall so many loves that
didn't last, that came and went
like a hummingbird feeding and
gone, some of them with insatiable
depths  that  needed  to  be  fed.

Some with hungers for the wailing
of tortured flesh,roaring whispers of
the men they'd swallowed.

But I know she is still out there
waiting for me to appear.                                         Jon York    2021