by Michael Estabrook

I’ve been showing my age forgetting
the names of celebrities.  It’s frustrating
but I can live with it but after 10 minutes
unable to recall the name Faulkner
one of my favorite novelists I begin to worry.

He hates growing old, aching joints
foggy eyesight and memory but fights it constantly
even though he knows the game is rigged
the gods will have their way but he simply cannot
go gentle into that good night.

Searching through the magazine rack
pushing aside the muscle and motorcycle magazines
karate, mountain climbing, and girlie magazines
trying to find a copy of Arthritis Today
suddenly wondering how the hell did I get here?

He surreptitiously snaps sultry pictures of a long-haired
Latina stretched out on a blanket sipping a Bud Light Lime
from a sweating can.  He emails them to his buddy George
who responded with “what kind of camera do you have?”
and he knew they were now officially old men.