I recently wrote a piece about aging too. I visit my mother in her apartment building every weekend and I see others there, just hanging out in the lobby alone. She says they never get guests and that many of her neighbors are jealous of her consistent visitors. It made me sad to think about all the stories sitting in silence. I’ll post it in honor of this poem and its message

Well, we’ve gotten here, you and I, and now our elbows wobble. (and all that other stuff) But doesn’t it beat the alternative? Maybe a little Neil Young is called for:

Old man lying by the side of the road
With the lorries rolling by
Blue moon sinking from the weight of the load
And the buildings scrape the sky
Cold wind ripping down the alley at dawn
And the morning paper flies
Dead man lying by the side of the road
With the daylight in his eyes
Don’t let it bring you down
It’s only castles burning
Find someone who’s turning
And you will come around

Well, Neil Young isn’t my favorite (it”s the voice), but he’s a hell of a writer, so I’ll take this with a big thank you, my friend. And a big Ho, Ho, Ho, too!

This one walks like a wounded animal—slow, deliberate, and not asking for pity.
That rain in the closet and reflection lying flat? That’s grief stripped of metaphor and still standing there, breathing.

The fast pace reminds me of an engine revving up and going down a racetrack

The beat, rhythm and pace is like a racing car! The reader wouldn’t know are You talking about a woman or a car lol. The closing lines are brilliant, and “unique styles” it is. Wonderful poem, to read it in the morning it fuels us with good energy to start the engine ✨

Corvette! Corvette! I’m a ‘Vette girl. But that’s mostly because daddy was a Chevy guy and Ford was a dirty word around him. Once wrote a poem about a Mustang once though. Much enjoyed this one, my friend

Cool dude. Great description. The energy & performance is highly moving. Excellent.

This had the rumbling force of a corvette being geared up for a rip roaring ride down the highway. And to me it also read like a sensual poem about the power of the engine getting ready to fly like bat out of hell down the highway of love. Fantastic work my friend.

John