very little of my future remains
when age moves above sixty
and no one really cares about you
other than the undertaker and you
know your generation is through;
time looks backwards in review
as decades of opportunities have
been placed carefully in stone cracks
in which a bracelet of time is built;
condoms of unused substitutes
are conspicuously outside to
ward off witches and wizards
from using magic to deceive;
inmates of solitude sit silently by me
counting their worry beads as their
superstitious natures tell them to
while distracting my horizontal focus;
templates of sadness arrives in the mail
any my first thoughts fear C. O. D.
but, it was a prepaid delivery from
Gabriel who will soon visit me.
18Jul14
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