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Poem

What decade is this if not 2020 at the start
In vision and vicissitude to you and future
Decadent in every way is in decline
A rocking chair or recliner define me
I must love you but only 10 years at a time
Because I get lost beyond that point
Since I only have 10 digits to count on
And they get lost when math becomes involved
Goes beyond my fingers which are always sticky
From finger licking chicken eaten on the side

Deplorables welcome me into their ranks
If I could be more sullied I would be delicious
Or is it delirious or something from the past
Odious becomes me because odious is best
And that is not a question

It is 2020 at least for 12 months or more
But who is keeping score
Certainly not me because as I stated
That thing about the fingers keeps me in my place

Decadent is not a state of mind or something pleasant
It is a decade with many days inside
One day I will have to leave them all behind
If I hold up two hands I'll let you decide
But not just right now because
I have at least 10 years to get beyond

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