I am 40…

Enough said?

What comes with the territory?

Mediocrity, apathy, urges, upon urges, upon the same.

I miss twenty, not that it was a good year

I miss the potential,

stealing kisses behind a newspaper in the park

The midnight walk in autumn under a chalky full moon under the Spanish Moss.

Seeing stars as celestial spirits and feeling like, so long they exist, there is hope.

There was a spirituality at twenty that I don’t have now – the spirituality of potential.

I read magic books in my youth that told me it was possible to control the world with herbs, roots,

and resin from ennumerable exotic plants.

At twenty-two a young redhead and I skinny dipped in a swimming pool behind someone’s mansion

by the river, and shared our lust and vibrance at least until we couldn’t stand the rampage of the

mosquitoes anymore.

I was far more brave and stupid than I am now – and I miss it.

40?

What comes at forty?

It’s, well, all so mediocre.

Middle age is a political age – everything is about security and lines drawn in the sand.

We all become pathetic old tigers growling every so often just feel some quiver in the earth below

our feet: that’s middle age.

There are no more adventures, there is no more journeys on tree limb ships across amazing oceans

of blue and green.

There is only traffic and trying not to be murdered by the thoughtless…

Insincere smiles and intimacies — and sweaty hand holding…

Dreams, dares are often met with lame attempts at sounding practical.

and spontanaity…What spontanaity – pass the Raisin Bran I’ve got so much to do…

Well I’ve got a lot to do too…

Well I’ve got to get these things done…

Well what about the things you don’t do…

Well I certainly don’t want to do them now that you’ve mentioned them…

There’s never closure because of old laziness setting in and caring less – that’s forty…

I’ll spell it out – that’s F – O – U – R – T – Y and I feel cheated…

It should’ve been better than this…

40?

It’s really only four decades.

I feel like I did when I was nineteen and immortal

I feel like I did when I was amazingly angelic looking and virile

but when I put myself in the post for the race I realize that I’m scared – scared they’ll know

scared they’ll know that behind this visage is something for more feeble than tissue paper

and though my mind is energetic my bag of flesh really only wants to sit down

and think of the good old days.