An older neighbor of mine
did recently confide;
"Reckon I'm gettin' ready to die,
my mind ain't working so fine,
open my skull and what might 'ya
see, would resemble some surreal
Salvador Dali painted scene.
All melted watches and disjointed shit.
My legs are unreliable at best,
my back continually aches,
blasted headaches refuse to abate.
I shuffle along like some broke
down thing, balance sketchy at best.
My recall comes and goes like a
random weak spray from a garden hose.
Spurts, leaks running here and there,
No continuous steady stream going
anywhere, not unlike when I take a pee.
They took my drivers license,
said I was incapable today and
would be more so tomorrow.
I used to dream of things I'd do,
of beautiful girls I'd like to screw.
Now any dreams I can recall
revolve around food and that's
pretty much all.
I wake at around 6 AM each day
my body racked with pain,
eat some mush and sit in my chair,
fall asleep and wake 'bout noon.
Repeat some food, return to my chair,
turn on the tube, 20 minutes in feeling
like the world is a hopeless damn mess.
Take me yet another nap in my chair.
I used to care about lots of things,
now I can't remember why or where.
If these here are my golden years,
I'd rather be young, broke and naked
in the back seat of my '48 Chevy,
lovin' my Cheerleader girlfriend Becky,
now those there were the Golden Years."
He has no living family, lives alone,
his dog died last year. He took down
all the clocks in his house, gave away
his granddads pocket watch. He leased
out his farm, got rid of his animals. Sold
off his John Deere tractors to a neighbor.
Uses only two rooms in a big old house
with ten . He is alone as alone gets.
He's 86 uses a cane to steady his steps.
We would need to walk in his shoes
to know his pain, in a few years perhaps
we too will know what he means.
Could this be why young people
avoid old people, I bet it is.