Best Poems Written by Mark Fishbein

Home Erectus Speaks Out

I get up and stumble to the coffee pot.
The first thing I say to myself is my age,
as if the disbelief can be suspended being half awake;
the full bladder, the cold feet, the gritty cheeks-  
O don’t even consider the mirror,
I might stumble in and drown.

When did this begin,
this ritual of waking to an update?
Yes, I’m still seventy-one
and still not used to my skin.
Yes, I’m still hungry to feel,
because what is life if you don’t feel? 
And I feel like ripping the wallpaper off, 
like jumping in the trees, 
like tasting the juices of fruits.

But after ritual mathematics
my mind goes to its normal home.
I start sniffing around like a dog. 
I need an orgasm.

Copyright © Mark Fishbein | Year Posted 2020