Last Dance At the Late Show
One lady waits
for her long dead mother to visit,
another, earnestly informs her husband
that she is far too young to marry him.
One guy stumbles up to a care-worker,
his tongue drooling rakishly.
He wants her badly
but his pick-up lines
are clogged between gums and dentures.
A green leaf hangs from a dying tree.
“Put that away Mr. Fanshaw”!
They come and go
through holes in their memories.
These, the old and put away,
in their careless and slipshod way,
remind us that autumnal brains
wither of living stems.
As I near the last dance
I wonder
how green my sap will be
when it dangles over
the edge of the unknown.
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