I wake up nightly just to ***
I start before I'm there
It might seem strange
But as I age
I really do not care

I wake up to the alarm clock
My back's sore and I ****
My hips are screaming meanies
My chest hurts near my heart

I stumble to the bathroom
Like I did two times last night
My knees are cracking loudly
My head don't feel quite right

My vision is all blurry
My right arm is all numb
Three fingers are all tingly
I've a funny feeling in my ***

My shoulders ache like crazy
I sound like rice crispies with cold milk
I stumble and I bumble
I move as smooth as silk

All of this together
Means I'm alive for one more day
Getting old is ******
What more is there to say?

They don't speak, all the long,
winding bus journey.  They are
strangers, with nothing in common
besides the No 50 route
and the free travel passes
afforded to them on account
of their quietly advancing years.
She sits in the seat in front of him.
Their eyes never lock.  His myopic
gaze through thick NHS lenses
rests neutral on the back of her head,
her softly blue-rinsed curls and the collar
of an eminently sensible overcoat.
They sit, both silent, as
- outside the foggy bus windows -
winter has one last chew on
time's bony old carcass.
She has a slight stoop which
she's doing her best to hide, and his
shaking hands make his liver spots blur.
They stand - the bus stopping at their
mutual destination - shuffling sideways
into the aisle, and something
unexpected
happens.
The bus jolts suddenly forwards,
then lurches to a startled halt,
and she falls backwards
into his arms
and he
catches her.
For a second,
strange gravities assume control.
There's a moment,
governed by different laws of
physics and chemistry
and half-forgotten, half-remembered biology.
She flushes, infused with something
warm and thirst-whettingly girlish, and he
surges with a newfound potency,
standing taller, the woman he's supporting
somehow lessening the burden of his age.
Her spine straightens, and
she laughs.  His face, smiling, youthens.
His hands hold her unstooped shoulders and
don't tremble.
Sun breaks through cloud outside the window.
They remember it's spring out there somewhere.

His better days were long ago done:
He's a bitter old man at thirty-one.

O.O

Some of us are older
And we remember a time
When being less than rich
Was not considered a crime
And dealt with Congressionally
By huge measures of stealth
Designed to take away rights
And relieve us of any wealth.

Some of us are older
And owning a home was not
Just a memory, and also
Was not just an empty lot
Where a house once stood
Before the owner got behind
And the bank ignored their pleas
As if they were all blind.

Some of us are older
And remember banks as friends
Who helped us with loans
Where good credit could begin.
We recall the days we could
Send our kids to university
And not saddle them with debt
That condemned them to poverty.

Some of us are older
And we remember the beat cop
Did more toward protection than
Murdering people at traffic stops.
We remember being told as kids
If you are in trouble find a cop
And old enough to have seen
The time that all began to stop.

Some of us are older
And we don’t recall seniors freezing,
Eating dog food alone in flats
And sitting in emergency rooms, wheezing
Because they can’t afford insurance
Because premiums were so high
And the insurance companies
Preferred that they just die.

Some of us are older
And we remember a country here
Where Christianity did not mean
Anti-black, anti-poor and anti-queer.
We remember you had to go
Down south to find hateful Christians
And it living life with dignity
Was not out of the question.

Some of her hairs grew longer than the others
In the outline of her silhouette in the afternoon sun
they shined in rebellion
sparse and lovely and greyed with age
I'd never seen a lady move so elegantly
Defying the subtleties that marked her age
She could run and play
And speak and charm
At rest she looked her youngest
She smiled in content as her chest raised and fell
She mimicked a breeze in late spring
In the dawn of the afternoon sun

Old Jim

"I'm grateful for the company

....sit down and I'll make tea"

"It's not often people visit

but, with the cat, us two make three"

He's hiding somewhere here

He's always there abouts

I just have to watch the doorway

I don't want him to get out

We listen to the radio

Can't afford to have TV

It's really not a loss though

Since I now can barely see

Time it takes it toll on you

A little more each day

I wish there was a little pill out there

That helped keep time at bay"

"There's the kettle, whistling"

I'll be back with our fresh brew

The cat won't drink it with me

So I'm only making two

I looked around the little room

All the drapes were closed up tight

It was sunny out and midday

But inside, it looked like night

There was one light in the corner

More for guests than Uncle Jim

HIs life was based on order

This room just wasn't him

"Here's the brew my boy" he said

"As he came back and sat with me

I watched him...two steps forward

One left,  then forward three"

He put the cups down gently

Didn't spill a single drop

He'd memorized his pathway

He knew exactly where to stop

"I've got biscuits, if you'd like"

"Some Hob Nobs from back home"

"I break them out for company

"They're too good for me alone"

I said that I would get them

and I exited my chair

He said they're up on top

But I'd never reach them there"

He came and got a grab stick

He poked and grabbed them from the shelf

He said "This things a lifesend"

"I'd never get them by myself"

We sat and talked for hours

Talked of sports and music too

He said that with his failing eyesight

There's really not much he could do

"It's saved me money someways"

"And cost  more in others though"

"But now that I'm not driving"

"I no longer shovel snow"

Jim, worked hard for forty years

He was a foreman in the mine

He'd been working round the coal for years

In fact since he was nine

He used to run small errands

From the office to the men

He lied about his age though

Jim told them he was ten

He'd retired back five years ago

When it got hard to breathe

"It was all I ever knew boy"

"I didn't want to leave"

Tons and Tons of coal dust

Must have filtered through his lungs

He was  dying slowly daily,

It started showing on his tongue

Small spots appeared which spread real quick

He started treatment right away

He knew the doctor would relieve him

Of his job, reduce his pay

"you know boy, there's a tale they tell"

"of birds down in the mine"

"when the birds fall off the perch stone dead

"Then we men have little time"

"We have to get out quickly

"For the bird has shown our fate

"But think a bit, the gas got him...

"So for us ...it was too late"

"We didn't really watch the bird

"We listened for his song

"For when his voice was laboured"

We knew it wasn't long"

"Dead birds...they meant dead miners"

At this my body jolted

"It;s like shutting up the old barn door"

"Even though the horse has bolted"

I finished up and said to Jim

I had to catch my bus

Jim said, "ok young man, be on your way"

" Now, it's just the two of us"

"You'll be back soon, I hope" he said

I said , "I sure will try"

"I like our little visits"

As he sat there and he sighed

"Just me and Tilly now" he said

As he saw me to the door

Stay safe my boy and oh....

He said "There's one thing more

"when you get on home...please phone me"

"It will make this old heart sing"

"Just phone me up and when you do...

"Let it go for just three rings"

I said I would, "but why three rings"

I asked, not four or five

"Three rings" he said's our signal

"In the mine....that you're alive"

I left and headed homeward

But first I'd stop of at the mall

Then I went home right directly

And I then gave Old  Jim his  call.

I was up to my fingertips
Doing humanitarian shtick,
Visiting a nursing home
Where they're more dead
Than sick;
Playing and singing
And doing my licks
For those with clocks
Near the last tick.
They didn't mind
My performance was sick.

The woman occupying
The bed next door,
Would curse and swear
Like a Tudor *****:
Together we were
Rocking the floor.

Just then the P.A
Called Code Blue,
I played on through what ensued..
What was I to do?

Then we heard
Code Red, Code Red,
The one next door yelled,
****, I'm dead?

I heard her screech,
Code Pink, Code Pink!
I caught the refrain,
Played a chord,
The Tudor and I
Were in full accord.
What was I to think?

Code Brown, she bellowed,
Code Brown, she hollered,
Hitting the ground
Just near the toilet.

*Code Green,
Code Yellow,
Code White,
Code Black,
I'm the victim of a Rainbow attack.
**** it! ****! I'm gonna die!
Don't they know I'm colour blind.