Each day I limp down to the courts
At nine o’clock and after noon,
Sit on a bench with aged cohorts
To tease and smile, kill time, commune.
We rant about the messy world,
Tell jokes, admire female skin,
Exhibit energy unfurled,
Expressing merriment, chagrin.
Night falls, the energy is spent.
We take to beds and lie awake,
Our aches and pains and old torments,
Plain venomous, entwine like snakes.
The dark is more than literal,
Becomes a metaphor for hope
Drowned in old age, funereal—
Our dreams a blank kaleidoscope.
(9/29/13)