To Damn Old
My friends from all over town have
gone away. It’s just that way, no one stays
when time flows by and suddenly you’re to
damn old and are an ugly sight to behold.
It’s a shame to survive so long that we
become a drain, and no one remembers
our name or so they say. Our unwanted faces
take up space in McDonald’s and other places.
To live past thirty and then forty without death
beating on your door was extraordinary in olden days.
If a person made it til their hair turned gray, they were
asked to stay and never called, “Cotton Top.”
Age meant data and their thoughts were sought by
the young before it became so easily found in the
electronic age without turning a page. Today it’s not
unknown for a child of one or two to have a phone of their own.
Did we fuck with nature’s plan by extending
our life span? Is that why cotton tops are avoided
by those whose hair is yet to turn gray? Is that
why the old are kept out of site and put in homes?
Should they even exist, or be put on a list when they no longer
contribute? Do they take up space and depress those of us who
retain our youth and don’t want to see any decrepit people sitting
in a booth while we stand to eat our lunch.
Take away amenities given to those past retirement age so
they’ll die and get out of the way. Isn’t that better than letting
them suffer for so many years? Let’s go along with natures’
plan and rid the land of those who can no longer work.
Then when we go to McDonald’s, the booths will be empty
and we’ll have a place and some space to sit while we eat
without having to see what’s in store for all of us.old age > poetry