The Watcher

The Watcher


I'm watching you
your eyes
your smile
or lack thereof

An old table radio
waiting to be tuned in
calibrate me
to your signal

Your body movement
head bob
tone
silence

No phone calls
no e-mails
can't see your face
to know how to react

Do lids rising
mean disapproval
are eyes darting
to get away

Watching and waiting
waiting and watching
watching
waiting

I'm who I think
you want me to be
not who I am
I am the watcher

Recycle Me

At my end
strip me down
a store mannequin
at the end of the season

Recycle me
my clothes
my skin
my bones

Don't bother with my eyes
they've seen too much already
my ears
they barely work

The right shoulder
no longer throws a ball
and the left
yoga did it in

The wrist I broke skiing
it's never been the same
eight fingers are still usable
the middle ones worn out

My brain is shot
from working overtime
my hair, what's left of it
could be used to tie a fly

My private parts will remain private
gathered in a large urn
dumped unceremoniously
like unrecycleable foam

I am planning to die
early on a
don't want to miss
recycling day


(photo from BitwiseAND.com)

Old Man

No "Sing Along with Mitch" anymore
Miller died at 99
no more bouncing balls
no goatee surrounding silly grin

I laughed at him in 1960
a useless old man
when I was 10
and he was 49

Stranger in the mirror mist
surely not me
no hair
creases and crevices

I discount the old
including me?
I need young love
for an old man

Still, I Am Loved

Despite
my sorry jokes
my sagging skin
my greying hair
my bad wardrobe
still, I am loved

Despite
my inflexibility
my hard headedness
my controlling
my know it all attitude
still, I am loved

Despite
my rants
my ups and downs
my boyish tears
my pain
still, I am loved

by you