Frankly, old age is a pain in the ass.
Just standing up engenders fat-knee creaks—
And the rich experience you’ve amassed
Does not assuage sciatica’s grim shrieks.
Still, despite my pain, inability,
There is an upside. When I was strong, young,
Driven to amend instability,
Politics freed my wallet and my tongue.
I mourned our spiraling world, dark, berserk—
I dreamed a world at peace, unbigoted.
I spoke and voted, volunteered to work,
Till age intruded, frayed that youthful thread.
That cesspool Middle East? Our next mayor?
Iran? Truth told, I just no longer care.
What troubles me? What most affects my mind?
The household mess my death will leave behind.
(3/28/13)