Monday, February 20, 2017

waking up grateful and surprised

I can't really do anything these days without other people, maybe I never could.

I am 73 years old. I don't know how to make love anymore cuz I am missing the desire to do it

I was walking home from work and bumped into my two friends and they accused me of not being sad anymore and they were right

I made it. I made it older than I thought I would. I am 80 years old. I sit on a bench and I watch the birds float atop the water. I used to do these things as a younger man which is funny

I can run. I can fuck for hours. I can play tennis and I can breathe. My body does everything I ask of it. I am a living miracle

I am 82 years old.  Everything is second by second. My eyes blur the image but my trusty old heart knows the story so well. It beats on a couple more times and then says its quiet goodbye

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

when an old guy dies

he lived alone. his things were out in the hallway this morning. a tattered bookcase with bad books on it. the kind of bad books you find at the goodwill. there is likely a closed circle of bad books coming and going from the goodwill as the nearly-dead people who own them and buy them for a quarter each die and buy again and again. he likely died. what were they doing. they were renovating the dead mans apartment. it wouldn't be his apartment by the first of the month.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

a morbid feeling along the crosswalk that passed upon arrival to the sidewalk

I know these women who try to look like stone. They are going through mud and want to look like stone.

I told this lover, unrelated to the women close to me looking like stone, i told her we know we are going to lose eventually and that's what makes our desire to keep surviving beautiful. That we keep trying even knowing we are going to lose. And i told her this because she has survived so much more than me and here she was a miracle over and over again a miracle

Monday, February 6, 2017

This is the place where women come to drink alone

The incandescent shimmer of muddy clear high end vodka. It doesn't have to be, it can be the cheap shit too.

Don't read the news. Don't read the news.

Women are leading the charge. Women are leading the resistance. Women are being what they wanted her to be and they are being her themselves.

Don't read the news, you came here to be, to be alone.

I look to the one to my right thinking about how martinis make me regretful of the feelings I no longer hold in my hands. I would love to tell you more about these feelings but this story is not about me. So I disappear into the warped reflection of myself in my glass.

This is the place where women come to drink alone.