two nights before my 72nd birthday

I am sitting here on a boiling hot night while
drinking a bottle of cabernet sauvignon
after winning $232 at the track.
there’s not much I can tell you except
if it weren’t for a bad right leg
I don’t feel much different than I did
30 or 40 years ago.
now I have more money, should be able
to afford a decent
burial.
I drive better automobiles but I have
stopped carrying a
switchblade.
I am still looking for a hero, a model,
but can’t find one.
I am not more tolerant of Humanity
than I ever was.
I am not bored with myself and find
that I am the only one I can hold
counsel with in time of
crisis.
this wine has enchanted me to
babble on.
I’ve been ready to die for decades,
I’ve been practicing, polishing
up.
but, for it all, it’s still too boiling
hot tonight
and I can think of nothing but
drinking this fine
wine, that’s gift enough for me
after all that other.
I can’t believe I’ve come this far,
this has to be some god damned
joke!

huh?

just another old guy
blinking at the forces.
smiling a little.
as the cities tremble and the left
hand lifts up
holding
something.