Calendars

Calendars

Days


Calendars mark days we’ve yet to live
And days we think we’re promise, and days we’ve thrown away.
Drinking roasted coffee after the non-existent intimate sex
And you’re depleted of the dollars you kept in your rust red crusted socks
Keeping on the loafers you’ve wasted miles of days in.

Your voice is cracked and old and bones are fragile
Waste thin, lower rib protruding and pants falling to your ankles
Exposing of your now brown bib like socks
And the black numbers in white squares mark out ‘Ashley’s birthday’,
And ‘VACATION!!!’ that you haven’t enjoyed in a while.

And now you’re remembering how it feels to be young and possibly in love
And the smell of sweet potatoes in a kitchen that you’re pretty sure wasn’t yours
But it doesn’t matter either way because the smell was sweet like your sixteen year old vestal self full of life and expectance for the next minute, hour, day hanging on a century drinking beer, in a pickup truck living immortality to the fullest

Lost now in prepubescent stained memories mostly gone and you’re drooling again
A habit you’ve unfortunately picked up in the later end of a tattered physical life
Walking in house shoes hopping to get to the lavatory soon enough not wanting the embarrassment of soiling yourself in front of yet another hot soccer mom, rich volunteer house nurse trying to ease her conscience for the sleeping around she does when her husbands at the office..

When you make it you’re out of breath and know your glory days are long gone with the biceps and pig skin football and cheerleaders in mini skirts flirting with their pom poms and ribbons while you’re moving at .5 miles an hour trying not to piss on yourself another time. And the nurse lets out a stifled sigh of pity, turns away and coughs

These are the days that we live taking it easy and shooting the breeze. Mark them off the calendar like we’ve lived them our whole lives when they’re really just the good days we are so limited to having. When you’re old and looking back to a time without the perils of overworked bones and prolonged debt and you smile to yourself knowing that the end never really justifies the means but its all alright because death will cure a guilty conscience for us all and knowing this you make it to the bathroom with no embarrassment..this time, lie in the bath tube and kiss today goodbye