One More Time
Before too long the covid masking will intrude into my life, with muffled words and itchy face of public need, and yet another shot to warranty against the looming rife of viruses that seem to change with fiendish speed. The obstinate among us stand their ground and often die but not before they also often help it breed, a nurture of a fatal part of nature better to defy than to abet and proudly ask it in to feed.
Aesop got it wrong. Or at least incomplete. This life-long ant realizes some of my money will outlive me. And here comes a Covid check. More for the kids? Not likely. But how to best squander it? I’m too old for expensive vices, and already giving things away. Spas and salons are wasted on a wrinkled, bald man. What’s left is geriatric dissipation. Grasshopper trips and meals, shows and concerts, gorged on at sedate pace, with lessened senses and focus and an age restricted diet.
Poetry ©2021 Ed Ahern
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