SHUT-UP & JUST GIMME THE ODDS

There will be
a rocking chair
that will have
my ass in it
before too long.
I'll leave
the juniper berries
for blackberry's
& strawberry's & eat
a fat white peach
its juices squirting,
dribbling down my chin
& onto a white sea-isle cotton shirt,
a salt breeze
teasing my body
even as it
soothes it.

This, of course,
if I get famous
or lucky.

Most probably
a bored & dimwitted nurse
will wheel me out
and place me
underneath a leaf
to get some shade
and some air
under a watchful
& sin-soaked sky
near dementia
& death.
My denture will loosen
& saliva will dribble down
my chin & onto
my hospital gown,
& the crack
of my ass
will moon
some young kids
on their way
to school or home
or mischief.

"That fuckin guy
makes me fuckin sick,"
one of them will say.
The other will be
quiet. He sees
his own future & that
shuts-up
everyone
especially
me.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014