Two Poems: "The Old Timer," & "...Married to a Gringo"

The Old Timer

I noticed today, my hair is thinning on my head
moreso than it used to be, and there is a bald spot in the back—
and my whiskers are thicker, grayer, than ever.
My stomach is out a few inches more too, more
than I can ever remember before;
and my legs are thinning with less muscle tone,
can’t stand alone, very long anymore.
‘What the heck is going on here,’ I asked myself?
Then I remembered, I heard some one whisper
(a day or two ago): “Who’s that old timer over there,
the one with the hair in his nose?”


#2149 1-13-2008 Perhaps getting old, and out of sorts with yourself, and so forth, is a way for God to say, time is short at best, and you need to get your act together, if indeed you need to. I am not making fun of myself, I don’t do that, I am having fun with myself, and reminding me, we over look so much, so often, even when it stares us in the face. In all honesty, I like getting old, it is an experience, a beautiful one, some even call it the golden age, I don’t I call it simply, becoming an old timer, and realizing it is my time to enjoy the full plan of God’s, the apparent reminiscent part.


A Peruvian Married to a Gringo

The pigeons use our garden as a toilet these days, and my wife, she gets mad as hell
(she cleans all around it, and the leaves, and so forth and on), says to me today:
“Even the pigeons think I’m your maid,” meaning, everywhere we go she
being Peruvian, me a gringo, they think she’s my guide, not my wife, especially
when we’re in Peru. She takes it holding her breath, then it comes out (now and then), and she
shouts at the pigeons, and I swear, they wait until she’s gone; and like most
Peruvians, they go back to what they were just doing.

#2150 1-13-2007