If you’re a vet and all your friends have pet names;
You circle neighborhood blocks in search of dead game
And entertain the possibility of taxidermy as a hobby
For retirement, you’re probably, a bit different than me,
And I appreciate the naked truth,
Like mosquitoes do nudity, but with no shoes
In grass this height, at this hour, as you tower,
Above me with your twin, I understand what Bin Laden did,
Someone ought to knock you down a bit.
But maybe we could go for a swim,
Leave the plain in the open and drown in the ocean
Till we’re salted and frozen and marketed and chosen,
As an item on the menu somewhere quite classy, now doesn’t that sound appetizing,
But white table cloths and candles or not,
I’ll be eaten before I can rot, I hope.

And I remember cheese and nuts on a small tray
Arranged in an order on the Hors d'oeuvre display
Consumed without preference or reference to vintages
Because when you’re hungry, you forget what patience is
But I recall finding crumbs on the collar of my jacket
And praying they wouldn’t find stains when I took it back,
But when they saw it they must’ve known it needed cleaning,
So every stretch from the evening
Tumbled to its end in the dryer,
Just to come out, tighter and faded,
And the only thing the same in both velvet and suede is,
I couldn’t have either unless I rented a size or so below what I’d usually wear,
And sucked up a bit, more air.
Still, a day later was wonderful,
I felt like a king called the ant hills sand castles,
And then the tide came in,
And everything was level, once again.