46 Years Old
I am an old man –
not so old that I can’t walk,
or I cough blood,
or I have to touch things to figure what they are,
or can’t get my dick up,
when I feel like it.
I am just a little on the other side of the string
String that burns slowly from one side
till it reaches the end,
unless one hangs himself,
or jumps from the 13th floor,
or lies on a railroad..
cut the string on his own, I mean.
Today I became 46 years old.
It depresses me a bit.
like all the past birthdays
every year on this day I feel a little powerless,
as wrinkles on my face,
grow like a spider’s web.
I knew long before today,
that this day would come.
It doesn’t matter though whether you know or not.
It always is terrible
to see your light fade a little
to see your skin sag
to watch the crow’s feet grow on the corners of your eyes,
to feel the reflexes dull,
to watch the memory fade,
To let time break the last promise of youth.
I see my face and,
I see the shadows of past sleeping over each other,
whispering in their murmurs –
long complaints, apologies, fuck ups –
a whole messy record;
above all the loneliness of the decades,
which sits like a lump in my throat.
So what do I celebrate
being a 46 years old ?