Magic Pills

I’m tired of being old.

There. I said it.

And I know that fifty is not exactly old, but it sure as hell feels like old to me. My brother-in-law once said something once that is perhaps the only profound words I’ve ever heard him speak (he’s a basement-dweller in his late 30s, still living off his parents, to give you an idea of his personality), but everyone says something with real heft every once in a while. Well, most people do anyway.

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the end of summer/

slipstream sliding towards
summer's end --
the girl who lives on heaven hill
playing on the radio
while i wish for an ale 
or mojito
i can't consume
aching from climbing ladders
that don't reach such lofty
abodes

the shrill cry of a hawk
calling out his kill