Rolling Over


My low life
A mindless celebration
Past indulged wasted
Wavering faith
Vacillating between hilarity and despair
Present humped by installments
Future chiseled by installments
plus late fee charges
I’m fifty-five
midlife crisis ?
I’m a poet
Forever in crisis
Am I complaining ?
Oh No !
I’m dealing with life
Very good

Oh yes !
I gel my hair, style my bald patch
A cover shy with bare strands of grey
An over-sized beer belly
I camouflage flawless
Walking straighter, tighter
My shirt tucked in
I can barely breathe

I enter a packed bar, music buzzing
Spirits flowing, swirling bodies
Rubbing asses, indiscreet
I step in real cool
To the groovy beat
A couple of drinks
Witty conversation
and she’ll be all over me

And so it happens, every single night
My regular barkeep, a nice soul
He hears me
Till I go quiet
He slides me the check
So long!
And I am gone

Did you notice me?

49 thoughts on “Rolling Over

  1. a poet forever in crisis…so true πŸ˜‰
    yes I do notice you…you are the guy looking all cool inside the boat πŸ˜‰

    Great poem, tittle and photo…this will haunt me,
    like the fact that you embrace this poem with humor
    like the ending too.

      • you sure on the right path Arjun, have to say I do not get all artists, just great ones like your self, you make me think that is a key in art too look deeper see things and feel more. Good day my friend!

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