Monday, October 31, 2005

Instructions for Aging

I don't want to live in a nursing home
or smell like cheese.
When my friends start to drop,
weighted bullets,
don't tell me you understand -
You won't.

Our sons and daughters will
make an appeal
out of misery
or guilt -
Ignore them.

Don't tell me Shatner
aged so well.
The bastard.

When I am ninety,
I'd prefer not to go dancing
in rubber pants
concealing my
misery.

Instead,
bring me
a package of day old doughnuts,
plenty of old newspapers
for my
parakeet.

When I’m old,
there's no way
I’m going to celebrate.
I'll refuse to wear purple
or teach the young
what life is like
when you're
already gone.

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