no more 8am waking up, dean martin really can’t stay, chestnuts stop roasting, the hallmark channel starts to countdown from 364, the radio quits playing it’s the most wonderful time of the year, dead christmas trees adorn city concrete, jimmy stewart disappears back into nostalgia, family says goodbye, credit card bills get paid, calories are cut, gym memberships rise, green & red sweaters go back into cedar chests, thank you cards are written, hot chocolate loses its luster, mistletoe romance becomes memory, new year’s resolutions begin, to do lists resurface, everyone gets a little older & 2023 says goodbye.
Tag: Aging
12/13: Poetry Reading in Burlingame, California
How To Stop Aging
embalm right now, easy answer, but that involves not living anymore, so try again, wake up slowly, whisper, i’m young, i’m young, i’m young, buy a lighted mirror, they take away three years, get a tiktok account, do all the dances, upload your favorites, tell people you are 27, lie, pluck out gray hairs, then dye, continually dye, never let them see your roots, use facial cream in the morning, use facial cream in the evening, never go out in the sun, smile all the time, frowning is for wrinklers, constantly talk about olivia rodrigo, never talk about justin bieber, he failed, he’s old, botox is required, sleep in silk, it keeps your skin timeless, do cardio, then sauna, infrared, never ski, the cold makes lines in your face, never wear glasses, never drink, but if you must, one white claw with a college student, marry someone twenty years younger than you, wear the brands that they wear, ideally only lululemon, don’t forget vinyasa yoga, anything else is for the elderly, drink water, lots of water, drive a jeep wrangler, play your music loud, post everything on instagram, that way you have proof.
Disabled
spondylolisthesis, 4 to 6% of the adult population have it, including me, i want to tell it that i was a once a runner, on trails, on hills, even won a race-in my age category, and don’t forget the hikes, everywhere, usually no less than 10 miles at a time, but it doesn’t care, it likes that i’m 50 and more vulnerable now, i assume that it wants to take over my spine, degenerate me day by day, and there we go, my mindfulness in freefall, pessimism taking over one breath at a time, i thought meditation was preparation for age and lack of movement, but eight hours lying on one’s back on a rug can crush the unenlightened, but to quote frou frou, there’s beauty in the breakdown, going on 13 weeks and yes, more patient, yes, more empathetic, yes, i’m here writing more, so i can’t walk for more than 8 minutes at a time, but i can be a better human being, i’m trying…
She Drives Real Fast
don’t call her old
or elderly, foot on the
accelerator, doing 73 mph
on a south carolina highway
near myrtle beach, my
91-year old grandmother
in her pontiac, like the
jan and dean song about
the lady from pasadena
she died a year later
left me the car
determined to follow her
lead and never stop
moving forward
Remembering Doris Grumbach: 1918-2022
Photo Credit: The New York Times
I corresponded with Doris and loved her memoirs. She sent me signed books. This is the post I wrote about her a couple of years ago: https://danielwpolk.org/2020/06/30/letter-from-doris-grumbach/
A link to her books: https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/authorpage/doris-grumbach.html
Baseball Cards
i’ve begun to hold you again
colorful cardboard portal
young men gripping bats
like no one ever ages
i used to take you for granted
trade you, shove you into
shoe boxes, stacking Tigers
and Orioles, reading statistic
after statistic, the only math
that ever made sense
now with gray hair, you are
mine again, behind plastic
i cradle delicate memory
this time around i know
nothing lasts forever
Mount Tamalpais
we talk about life
stumbling upward toward East
Peak, the fog slowly
disappearing into blue sky
day on this mountain
where we remember thirty
that age when last
here, ascending together as
if time remains still
but no, five kids
between us, balding heads
failing vision, and all
the rest of middle
age, to think in
another fourteen we will
be sixty, how long
will the mountain remain
ours, before it nudges
us off fire roads, away
from crow filled branches
we look down on
Lake Lagunitas, that water
holding minutes like a
Jim Croce song that
lasts forever, then stops
At 80 Years Old
If I wanted, every day could be a funeral.
So simple, just put a name into the computer,
wait for the obituary to pop up. Those older guys
are gone, my coaches, teachers, even that camp
counselor from Pine Island, up in Maine, he
could hold his breath underwater for 2 minutes.
Never thought they’d all go away, but there’s
the little candle, Legacy.com warming the screen
with another smiling photo. I read all the comments,
deeply miss her, sincere condolences, with such
a heavy heart. And I feel the weight of age with my
scrolling fingers, try to remember the last time I
saw him, her. What did we talk about? Maybe I’ll
google their kids, see where they ended up.
Minutes pass and I close the laptop,
pretend they’re all still alive.
Young At Heart
No one sees the
gray-haired lady in
a wheelchair, hands shaking
Parkinson’s pulsating through her
whole body. But when
Sinatra sings, eyes aglow
grandma is someone again.
She belts out the
best part, you have
a head start, if
you are among the
very young at heart.
Daniel W. Polk 