I am 70.
I have no friends.
I once had several clever friends.
They said clever things, and seemed to be going somewhere.
Haven’t heard from them since I was 30.
Maybe they’re all dead.
Now I sit in a small room with a large computer.
My left leg is bad. Last week it was the right one
I used to pass the time masturbating.
This I can no longer do.
The palm I masturbated with is mishappen due to Dupuytren.
The other palm was never as good.
Besides, now what comes out nowadays is a drippy nothing burger.
Before it was oceans. Now….
Bruce Willis has aphasia. I suffer from apophenia.
But no one is writing about that in the NY Post.
What about me, yo?
I used to study the pre-Raphaelites.
Now I buy tees at Walmart.
I used to love a beautiful girl named Margaret in the splendor that was the South of France.
Now I am reduced to blogging in Florida in a flea bag motel, fearing when the little money I have runs out.
What happened to the guy I was supposed to become?
Now that everyone my age is dying,
what’s gonna happen to me?