i have a shaven head.
bald looks better.
a comic goatee and mustachio,
salt and pepper.
as i drop in weight,
my skin sags.
doctors tell me it's better this way.
i am getting older.
i am a pariah.
no matter how stylish i try to be,
i am still sixty-two.
i opt for comfortable shoes.
i used to laugh at people wearing them.
my cowboy boots invite me.
"put us on, yah old fart"!
they look at me arrogantly every morning.
they stand like soldiers in my closet.
they antagonize me.
"give us away to a younger man...
a REAL man".
even my socks cause me agony.
their elastic bands cause me circulation woes.
Now, i wear a diabetic's socks.
they gently cradle my calves.
they have rubber grippers on the soles,
so i won't fall down, and not get up.
i am disgusted with my situation.
this wasn't supposed to be me.
as my body struggles to function,
i laugh at its foolishness.
I exist in this husk of self,
like so many before me.
and now i know what this feels like...
a new experience,
on the journey,