Newly Anxious People

My oldest friend reported yesterday
anxiety she never felt before
(I always sensed it, but I couldn’t say
as much – she cherished laid-back image more).
It’s now progressed too present to ignore,
and seems to me from cognitive decline
endured without resistance, save a whine.

Two hours later, in our weekly talk,
my daughter (middle-aged) confessed to me
anxiety that tends to make her balk,
before she starts a fresh activity.
She’s “what the fuck?” but I think it might be
that mating young let processes get tabled
she’s facing now her partner is disabled.

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An Unreliable Narrator

Of course I listened to my mom at first;
I spent that time with her, and I was young.
But over years I found she was the worst
conveyor of emotions given tongue.
She harmless seemed, but her pathology
was never given voice or even air.
She tried to cut the passion out of me.
She flirted so I saw no person there.

And it should not have come as a surprise
to hear an older cousin not adore
our common grandma (as Mom sadly must).
Another cousin tells how otherwise
my father’s mother was than what before
I heard from Mom, too hurt-beset to trust.

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Reminded

Our conversation spurred me to recall
that 15 years ago the course was set.
Two kids were babies then, adored when small,
the third a year from breathing air and yet,
the atmosphere at home was trending cruel –
at least one parent pompous, self-proclaimed
and inarticulate. He seemed a fool
but brutal; wit and courtesy he maimed.

For me his talent gave him no excuse.
But I had no control and little say.
Implying that some acts looked like abuse,
my view was disregarded. Every stay
was garlanded with themes that didn’t blind me,
and so our talk last week served to remind me.

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Symptom Report

A shooting pain propelled me out of bed.
The left side of my neck objected when
I tried to pillow-shift my waking head.
I register fresh neck ache. But instead
of starboard stab begun 5 days ago
that slowly seemed to ease, the problem’s spread,
and now on port it makes a nasty show.

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Mitigated Bitching

I’d criticize the way my children raise
their children, but I’d have to look at me.
I reared the slobs myself, in olden days,
and can’t assume each spouse exclusively
responsible for choices that must be
a shared decision. And to tell the truth,
the middle life is hard for all; I see
the world’s more challenging than in my youth.

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Calcification

From what I’ve seen (especially in men),
the aging process seems to calcify
the spirit. There’s a lack of oxygen
in attitude, unreadiness to try
amendment, a diminishment, and then
a petulant rebuff to modify.
I watch attempts to cling to history.
I can’t change you, but I’m on guard with me.

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Benign Sociopathy

Is sociopathology a trend?
How many don’t grant others what they feel
and don’t take lives, but fail to comprehend
a neighbor’s agony or friend’s ordeal?
It seems like gender error, rife to bend
a psyche to dimensions we can’t seal
that may be better battled than indulged,
but swallowing Gargantua, we bulged.

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Blur

We ask, and he replies he’s not depressed,
and dire as it’s been, he’s felt no pain.
But symptoms do not lie, and we’re impressed
with dullness and postponement. His refrain –
“I’m cool. And yes, I’ll do what you suggest,
but not today” – is obvious. The main
impression we receive: his mirror’s blurred
and border-crazed since tragedy occurred.

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Sunday

There’s probably a puzzle we can solve,
a pose to stretch the muscles we’ll soon use.
I think I’m game for what does not involve
attention to the headlines in the news.
Avoiding politics and sports, I choose
to kiss the carpet and inhale some dust.
This place is dull but residents amuse;
we’ve subjects begging to be well discussed.

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Fourcast

The image on the forecast is a cloud,
but I see streaks of blue at 7:10,
and I hear moods emerging from the shroud
of tumbled sheets and fitful dreams again.
The best here battle grumpiness – young men
too short on friends, a woman who’d be loud
with laughter if escape were in her power.
The sky and we will better in an hour.

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