Some things never change.

Once again, it’s 4 AM and he considers the plinkety plink with strings in the background channel instead of the wow what a rush and oh my aren’t the walls moving channel or the where has my cheating lover gone again woe is me channel because this early in the morning when he wakes up and it’s time for them to come, he prefers not to have someone else’s words get in the way. The…

She tells him he’s the stiffest man she’s ever known, and he supposes that if he had used Viagra or was still in his twenties he’d be happy with that assessment, but he hasn’t and he’s not, so he isn’t. His physical therapist concurs; tells him his lumbar spine is like concrete, but it’s crumbling.

He’s halfway through his sixth decade and it seems like whenever he goes to the park every bench is calling his name. He used to stay up for the late show and leave work early to get in a…

There is neither edge nor precipice;
nor slide, nor knowable fall.
There is only bottom.
Lack makes itself known
abruptly, a gasping loss.
There is only nothing, suddenly.

There is neither flight nor flying
nor slipping away into airlessness;
there is no drag or drain, no
low warning, no looming alarm.
There is only bottom and nothing.