Psalm for Old Age

 

Praise be the wisdom that comes with age,

the varicose veins; the indifference.

I mean how many times can you fall in love forever?

 

Praise be the calm that comes with old age,

a cold age, you wear sweaters even in May.

Your body can no longer rise to the occasion,

out of the chair quickly enough to get where?

 

How much joy do you have left

in that old sack of cartilage anyway?

How many times can a heart break?

 

Now when you see a wreck howling

in the street, raging, ranting, cursing —

you remember he was once someone’s perfect child.

 

Praise be the calm that comes with old age,

you rush past him to get home.

 

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