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don't ask
by Charlie Morganwhy does youth hate old men?
perhaps we mirror them like
a state fair midway.
why did we[as kids]drive thru
our one-horse town and holler
at one, "go home,ol man!"
i have a payment due--everyday.
as dues are dues, so pay to play;
i reach in my frayed pockets for coins
and find only lint, toss it in
the fountain of life, shoulder
tomorrow like a mountain goat and
reach into my heart to find lonesome.
i am halfway-up the steep precipice,
meet the one-way sign, realize that
there's no turning back. nothing
to do but laugh tears for that ol man.
wondering, is he me? 08/25/2010 Posted on 08/25/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 08/25/10 at 12:02 PM You know, I've been rocked by the blast of drive-by scene -- it's a bi-directional beacon of failing light and blind-side flashbacks...we take pleasure from reading you inside out chaz :> |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 08/25/10 at 12:48 PM I probably like old things too much, you know? Great stuff, man. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/25/10 at 01:16 PM Life is a 'one way' sign. Hold onto it as long as you can and let go with a holler. Good write Charlie. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 08/25/10 at 02:54 PM Love that first stanza. Such a pregnant question. And getting pregnant at your age... what a disgrace... And the idea of going up the steepness and seeing that one way sign, sheer genius! Again, pregnant with meaning for this old fart. But it IS nice to know I am only half way up. Great write, my friend. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 08/25/10 at 04:45 PM "Old" is only a matter of perspective, I guess...a measure of experiences not yet had by those fresh on the line. I keep trying to nudge you to a different window, sweet Charlie. However, the view is intensely valuable wherever you find your narration, though I do take exception to your lonesome. |
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