Old Man Winter

I’m too old for this shit,

I looked so alone walking in the mall

that a monk tried to give me books.

I was just buying Chucks and going home,

contemplating going to the wine bar in this weather,

forgetting I’d have to drive back to my abode.

Probably shouldn’t.

When the roads are wet in California

people drive like botards —

add 13.6 percent per glass…

a concoction for disaster.

I don’t want to be found plastered…

from an accident,

plastered from the drink is another story.

Surrounded by people is lovely,

but

people surrounding my solitude

is not my favorite part of my story.

I’ll just listen to the rain

as it pummels the ground,

watch the candlelight flicker off the walls

contemplating my thoughts to the same sound.

Slowly the glass will empty

and my energy will fade too,

fall asleep sitting up

as the old men typically do