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Unshaven, old, and nearly spent, He slouched in his kitchen chair, Lungs rattling each wheezing breath, Radiation doing little then, To control the mass within, or To prevent the Mass he knew Would soon begin. Hard to believe a man So tough as Rubin always was Sat stubble-faced and wan In that early morning sun. Two years ago, At 65, He and his son Put a ****** on, Fought a cop, Nearly won, Stayed a week in jail, Paid a $7000.00 fine, Then bragged it all Was worth the time And memories. I saw him jump, At 66, From a moving van, Six feet up Like a younger man, Hell bent to take his fill, Shovel hard, cursing still, Cigarette hanging loose Even with a rattling cough (He shrugged it off) And then, At 67, His last remains crave no nicotine, No ***** wayward fights, No carousing old man libertine Out with his son at night, And we who watched Old Rubin's days, Paid our respects and went our ways.
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Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
Stubble
Unshaven, old, and nearly spent, He slouched in his kitchen chair, Lungs rattling each wheezing breath, Radiation doing little then, To control the mass within, or To prevent the Mass he knew Would soon begin. Hard to believe a man So tough as Rubin always was Sat stubble-faced and wan In that early morning sun. Two years ago, At 65, He and his son Put a ****** on, Fought a cop, Nearly won, Stayed a week in jail, Paid a $7000.00 fine, Then bragged it all Was worth the time And memories. I saw him jump, At 66, From a moving van, Six feet up Like a younger man, Hell bent to take his fill, Shovel hard, cursing still, Cigarette hanging loose Even with a rattling cough (He shrugged it off) And then, At 67, His last remains crave no nicotine, No ***** wayward fights, No carousing old man libertine Out with his son at night, And we who watched Old Rubin's days, Paid our respects and went our ways.
Men I have known....
don-bouchard
Written by
66/M/American
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
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