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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Receiving an email I’d never expect,
awaiting a flight that’s delayed,
I read of a favor I didn’t detect
when granted, which your words conveyed.
Without you describing, I’d not recollect
the kindness your missive portrayed.
The truth, is I played fair – I only play me.
I’m happy to meet me from your memory.
Warned off a week ago, I didn’t need
reminding of her cold fragility.
She’s only 42 and stressed indeed,
but compounding the pain, it seems to me,
is lack of confidence, imposter-seed
that’s born of college-prep precosity.
Participation medals lack all brilliance,
and tragically retarded her resilience.
Eight days ago a new campaign began.
Some kids of mine launched add-ons to their game.
We watched from 8 a.m. The tally ran
up quickly and we high-fived with the same
sincerity through messaging as can
in RT be. The thrill by other name
is flooding dopamine. That day was swell.
Another 9 days’ totaling will tell.
When one I love asserts redundantly,
or states how I or someone dear should act,
I shine them on, but very silently
(ignoring, sure, but doing so with tact).
You cover both ears metaphorically,
declaring you will disregard, in fact.
I watch you angrily erect that wall,
and understand your tactic not at all.
I ventured on an extra little stroll
two days ago, to use up half an hour
spare, and buy a snack while on a roll
of energy. I figured I could wear
the sandals engineered to lift my sole
and cushion shock, this long since injury.
And every step felt fine and in control,
till two days afterward my arch went sour.
I’m lacing now, remindful of my goal.
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