Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Not Much Going on in Reality Today

Without the spouse,
Or the children
Or the siblings
Or the parents
It gets quiet
When the world’s
At work.
And you realize that
Is killing you
And it must stop.
One wants to be
Anchored in reality
Even though
My illness
Makes reality
Move like tar.
The game is over.
Turn in your
Pads and gloves
Leave it to younger
People who
Do not know
The future
Whose careers
Have not
Yet ended
In disability.
Or poverty.
I must embrace
My age.
Your white hair
Is beautiful.
Your face
Is beautiful.
Adjust to
The rhythms
Of the new
Because, Sugar
You can’t go back.
No matter how
Hard you dream.