It’s hard to floss

these days—


to pick my nose.

As I get older

I do the natural thing

What are fingers for?

I play golf after work

I don’t have time to adjust my outfits

So, the golfing clothes

of the day before

belong to the next workday.

I’m becoming a scarecrow

with muddy pants

and shirt-tails

hanging out

while I fumble for ice cream

in the supermarket.

My hair grows long

My side-burns bushy

My weekends are filled with literature

This annoying teacher, I know

pretends to be my friend

He gets my number, “Let’s hang out.”

but he doesn’t call

I listen to the Old Man and the Sea

in the late evenings



there isn’t much else

I want to be.


2 thoughts on “Beaten Scarecrow

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