SINGLE MALT POEMS

GETTING OLD

I must be getting old because Ive reduced the whole nine yards to 5½, I no longer covet my neighbors wife, religion doesnt seem so absurd. Im pulling in my horns. Climbing back into my shell. Washing my hands of Paul Wolfowitz, Prince Charles, Dick Cheney, Kobe Bryant. Goodbye Rush Limbaugh, Paul Harvey, William Safire. Farewell Ariel Sharon, Sharon Stone, Stone Temple Pilots. Goodbye to The Rock, The Bushes, Forest Gump. So long River Phoenix, Keith Moon, Sun Yatsen. You can all swallow a gallon of casket wax. I must be getting old because Im only giving 72%, I think the world owes me a living, even if I try I know I still cant make it. Nancy Reagan is my pinup queen. Its time to throw in the towel, say goodbye to Ginza. My food pyramids a stack of onion rings. I commune with nature in a beer garden. I enjoy long leisurely strolls to the liquor store. The end is near. Can you feel it. I can feel it. Eternitys gonna be hell for this fallen away Catholic, this meat eating vegetarian, hard drinking member of AA. My friends just voted me least likely to eat sufficient dietary fiber. I cant remember my memory losses, dont care what goes around comes around. When I was young I caught fish in Moose Lake, shot moose at Fish Lake. Now I dont desire what I cant get even if I could get it. The high school I graduated froms been torn down. Twice. Ive lost enough jobs to double the unemployment rate. Youll probably think Im losing me mind when I tell you I no longer care about bad reviews, constructive criticism or individual responsibility. Im not searching for answers. Jesus isnt gonna reappear like a Las Vegas magician. I havent seen the universe in a grain of sand, discovered some good in the worst sonofabitch, found hope under the most brutal conditions. Where do we go from here. How the hell should I know. I dont care. Because Im packing it in. Taking a hike. The Hidden Hand isnt going to make poor people rich. All the meek will inherit is the debt for the Iraq War. I must be getting old. Im losing my hair, losing my good looks, losing my official status. Im failing the eye test, my urine test, a check stop, the loyalty oath. I hate small animals, big names, pushy women, enormous stupid ideas. Im not holding my breath until the fat lady sings, my daughter sends me a Christmas card, a major world leader expresses a major world idea. I want to hit the slot machines with William Bennet, take prescription painkillers with Rush Limbaugh, and go drinking with the Bush girls.

Sun 12/07/03