everything hurts to the edge of goodness

when you get as old as I      you can’t help thinking about
death      you know it’s getting closer with every
tick      an old fart like me      can go in a second
have a stroke      or the blanking of the mind      cancer
ect. and
ect.

while the young think about getting a piece of ass
the old think about      getting a piece of the
dark action.

still
it makes you appreciate the small things      which become
large then
like say      you might look at a grapefruit      like you never
quite looked at one before      or a bridge      or a dog
or even a sidewalk      like you’ve never looked at one
before

and all the other things about      they seem quite unusual
new

and each glass of wine      has a flavor and a feel
you never quite noticed      in that
way.

the world is a flower      though sometimes an ugly
one

and driving the boulevards      you see people in their
cars      and you think      each of them must
die

it’s strange that      each of them      must die

why do they listen to      such awful music?      why are they
so petty      under the
sun?

then      I often get lucky      I forget about death      I
forget that I am      old.

I   feel about 45      I’ve always felt about 45      even when
I was 16.

and the most marvelous thing is      being dumb      to the meaning
of existence      and liking that      just searching in small
areas

as somebody somewhere      waters a small plant      in a pot
a place crashed in fierce      explosion
deep under the sea      strange things move
as the drunk      is manacled      to his helpless
self.