deepundergroundpoetry.com
Now She Tells Me
Now she tells me
for the however manyeth time that
yes, she still loves me but
in a different way.
I kept hearing that but
translated it as
yes, she still loves me but
there are issues which can
and probably will be
worked out.
Silly boy.
The latest issue being
the guy twenty-some years younger
who just got out of jail
and is now working for her
with an ankle bracelet
quietly keeping an eye on things
While his thing
which is supposed to go up
goes up
whereas mine
wants to think about it
and will get back to me if and when
the viagra train comes rolling in..
Yes, she is effing him.
Yes, I am an impediment.
Yes, I am a wrench in the inner workings
of this simulacrum of whatever.
My expiration date mockingly serenades
my seventy-nine years of irrelevancy
even as my world swoons
and my old precious dish
runs away with the bright shiny spoon.
My dear old sweetie
with flawless skin
begins to wrinkle
her merciless spine slowly bending
her body into a querulous question mark
shivers now in anticipation
as she shushes me
index finger to lips
and goes outside
to take his call.
Be careful, dear one,
I want to say but
I have lost all influence
and her eyes are once again
shining like a young girl
wearing giddy ribbons of abandon
who decades ago danced wildly
with a snake about her neck
but now slow dances
with early-stage dementia.
What is left is just
to hold my tongue
and sleep alone
beneath the bus
and drink the kool-aid
the bitter cup
which runneth over
and over
and over;
to be gracious
without overtly complaining
or demanding a reset.
But it's hard.
It's really hard.
for the however manyeth time that
yes, she still loves me but
in a different way.
I kept hearing that but
translated it as
yes, she still loves me but
there are issues which can
and probably will be
worked out.
Silly boy.
The latest issue being
the guy twenty-some years younger
who just got out of jail
and is now working for her
with an ankle bracelet
quietly keeping an eye on things
While his thing
which is supposed to go up
goes up
whereas mine
wants to think about it
and will get back to me if and when
the viagra train comes rolling in..
Yes, she is effing him.
Yes, I am an impediment.
Yes, I am a wrench in the inner workings
of this simulacrum of whatever.
My expiration date mockingly serenades
my seventy-nine years of irrelevancy
even as my world swoons
and my old precious dish
runs away with the bright shiny spoon.
My dear old sweetie
with flawless skin
begins to wrinkle
her merciless spine slowly bending
her body into a querulous question mark
shivers now in anticipation
as she shushes me
index finger to lips
and goes outside
to take his call.
Be careful, dear one,
I want to say but
I have lost all influence
and her eyes are once again
shining like a young girl
wearing giddy ribbons of abandon
who decades ago danced wildly
with a snake about her neck
but now slow dances
with early-stage dementia.
What is left is just
to hold my tongue
and sleep alone
beneath the bus
and drink the kool-aid
the bitter cup
which runneth over
and over
and over;
to be gracious
without overtly complaining
or demanding a reset.
But it's hard.
It's really hard.
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