Running Through the Ages
Early Times
Panting through a few females.
Running on the spot mostly.
Go to Paris to find myself
find a locally made Gallic STD.
Have a Ringo mustache,
the prostitutes on the Montmartre
think I’m pretty cool for a kid.
Beach bum along the Mediterranean,
bare feet imprinted on sand do not last,
however, sun, sex, and cheap wine
should not be underrated.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Age Twenty
Took her home to meet the parents.
A good girl,
not much sense of occasion.
Stripy rainbow knee-high socks,
mini skirt, pink hair
deeply cockney accent
and prone to casual expletives.
Father kept grinning until his smile froze.
Mother took her cues
from the Arch Duchess of mucky-muck.
~~~
Age Thirty
In the used car lot
sleazy car salesman blindsides me.
I should have been ready
more alert,
driving home in a ten year old Mercedes
wondering
if my childhood will ever end?
I am now a professional,
nurses figure larger in my life
than they ethically should.
Head for The Far East
to administer to the halt and lame
including, metaphorically speaking,
myself.
~~
Age Forty.
Finally qualify for veteran status
in a marathon race.
My athletic son is also running in it.
I fake a sprained ankle,
then disappear for ages
travelling the world.
When I return,
my shoulders grow cold from icy stares,
wife is dating someone else -
family relief all around.
~~
Age Fiftyish
Fish diet, wife still unhappy, son married
and distantly related to Trotsky.
Adorable brats for grandchildren.
Got a mistress who thinks I’m great,
but maybe it’s too late,
testosterone levels going south.
My Boss hates me.
Adultery & divorce,
new wife, much like the old one
but less y.
We roam the globe again,
desperately seeking something -
anything.
~~
Autumnal Years
The police are getting younger.
Dental appointments are reaching danger levels.
I’m not holding any grudges
for I have been right all along.
Turns out I am a poet
and quite enjoy pissing folks off.
Life is good, but then again
it always was.
~~~
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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