I smoke the past Like it’s grass My future has grown cold, old My past—wow What a treasured blast I’m managed livestock Like chickens in a roost A pig in a pen No more pennies for my thoughts Tuesday: Bingo Wednesday: Transfusion Thursday: Physical therapy Friday: Mystery Meat Our teeth are optional Our appetites are not We chew like glaciers At the table of decay We shuffle to dinner Like zombies in an end-of-life parade Sports betting is now guessing Which one kicks the can next We navigate the hallway corridors Like we’re casting for the living dead With nowhere left to scurry Eat our food, live At the glacier speed of eternity Depends are no longer a choice They’re the catch-all for soiled waste Aid and assistance Is no longer on aisle nine It’s a call for a daily wipe The toilet becomes a throne Until you can’t get off Then somebody - me - calls 911 To retrieve the king I’m hoisted from my porcelain kingdom Like a prisoner being airlifted away I close my eyes and imagine A bright, sandy island Somewhere they don’t know my name My life is now a horror show “Let’s get you cleaned up” Is just a preview Supersized with Depends My friend is a walker Outfitted with bright yellow tennis balls I’m the belle of the ball I’ve gone from high-heeled shoes To Velcro On great days I’m whisked from my kingdom To the great dining hall In a Ferrari wheelchair I shower in a shower chair Air-dry more than towel-dry Standing is now an extreme sport And balance has become A matter of opinion My independence is withering I’m becoming a liability To everyone around me Especially to myself I drool I stoop I drape My dentures float in a cup nightly While my face slowly implodes And I become Granny May A stranger wearing a face I no longer know Happy hour is now medication time The pill cup is my cocktail glass I raise my little plastic chalice And toast to whatever comes next I once griped about things Small and smaller Now I only have the energy For getting older I won’t sugarcoat This getting-old thing It’s a bleak destination A dark corridor A cold, cold ending The final wipe of time I spend most days and nights Passing around Swiss-cheese memories From one meandering moment To the next I once chased new memories Like an addict searching for a fix Now I steal from the past To while away The slow tick of life I smoke the past Like it’s grass Pull another memory Disappear into the past Carpe diem Once, I lived
