Poem 2 My Son

I had you at 30,so

you will know me, at 30.

30 is where the sidewalk ends.

you can call me then

at the sidewalk’s end.

and when

you turn 40, I’ll be

but a budding 70!

but you

will be depressed,

on to your second marriage, or so.

your dreams all sour,

and your bed sheets clean.

no dope in your lungs

and a cob-up-your-ass.

while I am surfing,

at 70.

and when you hit middle-age – the




I may finally be old.

and behave

like your father.

and brother, you will need a father!

50 is shit!


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