And I've gone silver in my travels
Growing silver in my sideburns, I'm starting to unravel
Heard my heartbeat on a downhill
I counted eighteen on my pulse as Kilrenny Church struck three for three o'clock
What else?
What else?
And you said twelve years in retirement
The hours go by like sips of water, the record lies unbroken
And no doubt it's white flour in my diet
It's going to be the death of me, sweet drumroll for those embittered big ideas
It's such a waste of all that I had
You mentioned bats in the attic
So now you're lifting up the tiles to get around those conservation rules
I walked down to the basement
I'm hanging upside down, a gag across my mealy mouth
And how I'll laugh out loud about that
When I read your simple novel that uses all our real names
And go make yourself a fortune
There's nothing left for us than us left dangling just a little shamefaced
It's such a waste of what we had
And it's such a waste of all that we had
And it's such a waste of all that I am
There is an ancient Sufi parable about coffee: "He who tastes, knows; he who tastes not, knows not."
Sunday, April 4, 2021
Bats in the Attic
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