Getting Old by Stephen Jarrell Williams

He thought
he would wear holey jeans and T-shirts
through the forever of his days,

walk barefoot
smoking cigarettes cockeyed,

charm women under a pastry of stars,
never getting tired and never going to die.

staggering down the hall to his greasy apartment,
opening the unlocked door burping,

two neighbor gals
taking a steamy bath in his tub,
their best years down the drain...

He pees into the tub between them,
laughing, the party of the old continues...

The three of them in bed with lights off,
each remembering years ago,
drip of tears on soggy pillows.

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