Outside in the morning

Walking across the front lawn

Early in this chirping-crisp brisk

Morning – the sun blinking its

Bright light through the trees,

Breezes meandering, spread

Widely enough to stir the leaves,

And grasses and flowers beneath them.

How often did I wake here

Trousers cinched with a broad

Belt, my ancient Ninety-two

Pulling them further down than

They did when we were new?

I might know if I were thinking

Clearly, the way to the top.

There was a time I wouldn’t stop

On such a morning until I stood 

Up there, drinking espresso

From my thermos’ cup, but I

Can’t make it beyond here, this

Morning, being too old and feeble

For anything more than this.

Sailing back from some place else

 

We were often there, taking 

The stairs two at a time

While the chance of falling

Wasn’t a consideration, and

A helping hand being there

Was for touch and not

Really for help.  I recall

The touch.  I thought I could

Handle losing it, but failed

To understand the breaking

Down of her understanding,

That withdrawing

Touch of consequence, 

Memory loss, loss of most

Of what she was.  I would

Have stayed at sea if she could

Have stayed, but she was

Slowly leaving in her mind,

Me hearing her go in every

Conversation, time trickling away

Like sand through my fingers.

My Old Pen

 

There was a blaring 

Back up beyond the hill we’d 

Just come down.  Someone 

Pursued us.   A bull horn

Voice strengthened and

Threatened.  Unable

To think, I stumbled

Away as well as I could. 

I had been writing and

Raised my hand with a pen

There clinging.  My other 

Held a walking stick

And at my feet Jessica bared

Her few remaining teeth.

My pen was knocked away

And my poor hearing

Turned their sounds into

Raucous screeching.  They

Shook their heads at

My conspicuous ineptness

In this now-righteous domain.

Going back again

 

Brooding at my desk

From an open book

Resisting a hand full

Of sleep from time

To time, recalling

As I drift forward

Or aft the soft sail

Boat sway on a calm 

Day, Susan brilliantly

Smiling into a morning’s

Rising sun – time stilling,

Watching my main

Sail flutter, and never 

Caring until that time

Ran out and runs out still

Sitting here snapping awake

From my palm-perch which

I flex and flex until I have

The feeling back – the

Rest of me though loses all

That is back there once again

Death application

If you wish to die, strike one on 

Your keyboard.  When the next

Screen appears, select your 

Reason from the ten provided.

After this you will need to strike

Your signature key.  If you 

Do not have such a key,

Go to the “create your signature”

Screen and create one.  You will

First need to answer the questions 

Listed.  You will be notified within

Two weeks if your signature has 

Been approved.  If your yearly

IRS Tax bill has been under ten

Thousand dollars a year, expect

Near-term approval.  If higher

You will be directed to a Grief

Counselor.  If after two years, and

With your counselor’s approval

You still wish to die, your request

Will be reassessed and you will

Be directed to a new Grief Counselor

Setting out on a new spring day

 

Hobbling along a cobblestone

Road, it won’t take long

To run me down.  How far

Can I get?  I’m sure they

Wish I were not out here 

Ahead of them again, but at

Least I’m no one urgent.

My existence anywhere being 

Merely overdue.  There were

Calculations, slide rules

At first and adding machines,

But now its smart phones and

Artificial intelligence.  It knows

Each step I take and where

I’m likely to go.  When I don’t

Go there, an algorithm files

Another complaint of the sort

I’m tired of responding to,  

Searching down this road

For a better place to hide. 

Concluding strains

 

In the last act, viva voce,

The soprano softly sighed

Gasping the words of her

Remaining song.  They were,

She sang, of her love and how

I’d vowed to care for her

Until this our end now

Being portrayed.  I could   

Not then sing. I tried

Instead to smile.  Her wan

Look faded with each

Uttered word sung softly 

In diminishing refrains.

We heard the approaching

End. I sang the anguishing 

Solo as the lights dimmed.  The

Ushers jangled the doors wanting

Us gone.  With my hand in hers

I turned to the emptying chairs

And bowed -- one – last – time.