7:05 AM Sun Aug 14 2022
this com-plaint again?
a FPOTD^ comes on like a summer cold,
fast, annoying and unexpected in mid-August, requiring
instant attention, dueling satisfaction, immediate ****** completion.
‘tis no secret to those who love me (why else would
you be so foolish to read this scribble), that I am a sadly ****,
fading desirable, somewhat literate, old man of advancing years.
(here my conscience inserts fiddling doddering old fool,
but a successful old men
Senatorial filibuster denies passage of this clause)
I confess my symptoms, without shame, but with deep anger,
that I’ve failed myself, permitted the slow decay to gain secure
footholds in the Black Mountains of my body.
my hands do no tremble, yet, my gait is not a oldster shuffle, yet,
with a squint, can still read some fine print, even find the balance
resources for a near-daily moderate paced, 4 mile walkabout.
what then do you fail to grasp?
Exactly. Every gesture, every step, touching, task-moderate is a calculus of deliberate exactitude, so refined, an-ever-so, careful
UNhurried grasping of my fave 19oz. Macintosh mug.
deep seated aches in extremities, bending requires malice aforethought, long drives requires reassembly to remove me from
the driver’s seat, don’t ask about recovery from trunk unloading!
the day begins. shall not catalogue the many mini-acts that will
be performed, combining balance and fine minute movements,
there will be grumbling aplenty, screams of Joy & Pain,
for such is life when you’re are in the finale act!
Bluntly, then, recap,
the gangrene is deep in the places where there is
no recovery possible, no forgiveness available, and the stench
of aging, the old man stink is musk-masked, but unmistakable
and I grasp each arriving second with alacrity, care.
“And Mr. H. will demonstrate
Ten summer sets he'll undertake on solid ground
Having been some days in preparation
A splendid time is guaranteed for all.”^^
^ First Poem of the Day
^^ “For the Benefit of Mr. Kite” by John Lennon and Paul McCartney