Are You Drinking?

 washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
 out again
 I write from the bed
 as I did last
 year.

 will see the doctor,
 Monday.

 "yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
 aches and my back 
 hurts.
"
 "are you drinking?" he will ask.

 "are you getting your
exercise, your
 vitamins?"
 I think that I am just ill 
 with life, the same stale yet
 fluctuating
 factors.

 even at the track
 I watch the horses run by
 and it seems
 meaningless.

 I leave early after buying tickets on the
 remaining races.

 "taking off?" asks the motel 
 clerk.

 "yes, it's boring,"
 I tell him.

 "If you think it's boring 
 out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
 back here.
"
 so here I am
 propped up against my pillows
 again
 just an old guy
 just an old writer
 with a yellow
 notebook.

 something is 
 walking across the
 floor
 toward 
 me.

 oh, it's just 
 my cat
 this
 time.

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