AD.

lovelylady

Mesh

I sit in a second-hand armchair
on the third floor of an old house
in which I pay to live,
a poor man with a rich mind
and a weak will offset by stubbornness
and sometimes saved by luck.

My riches are the memories
of the merry and not so much along the way,
the friends that wove the weave
of leave behind in word and song and art
that sparks the arc.

Reward is wife and cat.
That is where it’s at.
Simple fact.
I’m with the ones I want
who want with me to be.

Cat’s asleep on top of box,
wife in eleven year bed,
both leap alive inside my head.

Chased the riches and fame game
fifty years but came up lame
so am what I am
which is no Popeye.

Got that much worked out in 70 years.
The rest remains muddled,
angle and desire licking somewhat less
in mesh of older flesh.

If I had to take a guess
life is this:
step, stumble, fall, rise yet again
from mess.

– Smith, 7.3.2016

catonabox

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