|
| |
Shambling On
I wish I had the fortitude & Will
to dress in a clean shirt, tie,
neatly pressed slacks and suitable jacket
like an English gentleman, but….
one day
I appear in a supermarket
in sweatpants and T.
Stained nocturnal, I drive to a fast-food restaurant
then sleep in that T, eat breakfast in that T,
wear that T all day,
then slapdash my way into the night.
I have entered the rumpled shambling center
of that patched-up heart of aging,
where night hangs on the backs of chairs,
and rumpled mornings enter the evening
ever unwilling
to change.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
|
|