When I was ten
Life was cruel,
Thing usually didn’t work out
When I got a present it was always clothing.
At twenty life was conflicted.
My love didn’t love me,
Sleep and appetite fled,
And school wasn’t happening.
With children at thirty, in a foreign land,
My jobs gave me little satisfaction.
Divorced with few happy prospects.
There were days that seemed interminable.
In my forties I started over ...again.
More anxieties, not much stuff.
Another city, few friends,
I’m still bluffing my way through
Declaring myself a winner, I retired,
Promised myself leisure and travel,
Another new home.
At fifty I had friends and stopped running.
At sixty I hadn’t mellowed,
Could still curse a fool driver,
Express revulsion for the tax code
And people who didn’t recognize my wisdom.
I was born over seventy years before
My latest recitation of my life’s wish.
I want to be the heroic cowboy,
But I find hope in a warm, sunny day.
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