I’m way too high for mine or anyone’s comfort,
My head has nothing above,
I’m afraid of height and I can’t stand wide open spaces,
Standing on a wire strung across the gap between the
Twin Towers which no longer exist.
This long, long pole I hold is no comfort,
I just don’t want to be here by myself,
But there is nothing I can do to ward off
The situation,
Alas.
There was a time when I sensed
That I had company,
Others exhibiting the same insanity,
The same quiet desperation of
Being Alive.
I was able to hide in the crowd,
Not willing to volunteer in the effort to
Stick my head up,
Remaining quiet – invisible,
Please don’t call on me!
Aging eases life onto the afraid,
The ache of being old dulls and
Likewise, this new clumsy existence,
Brown spots, crusts, unsteadiness,
It renders us decrepit and feeble; ugh!
Ben sort of spoke Español,
Learned to get along okay with it
(In Puerto Rico with Hunter Thompson)
Ben was a thinker but not a lover,
He smoked and never got over it; never.
Rick tamed lions and dragons and wild humanoids,
He put them on canvas, all playing,
What a nice guy to sit with,
I saw him go,
Saw him go.
Bill and I were shipmates on a submarine,
He was a hippie before they were,
Bill could learn anything,
Walked his own path,
Stayed on it until he felt too tired, he gave up.
All of us were walking that wire,
Strung between the Twin Towers,
Which no longer exist,
With those long poles,
That were supposed to comfort us.
Agoraphobia is my private hell,
I have given up on being agile, limber, nimble, slim and supple,
I have learned to embrace my limits,
A reluctant embrace to be sure but
Just the same that is what I am.
Ben in Español is Ben-ha-meen,
He told me that,
Rick is Reek! Said with enthusiasm,
Bill es Guillermo sometimes Billy,
But always with respect.
Jesus, Ben. You stopped, came to a screeching halt,
What the holy hell?
And Rick, we were just getting restarted,
You drew the short straw with the big C.
Bill, you felt tired; I know…you stopped taking the pills that helped you live.
My three old pals all done,
Took off on me and left me
Holding the pole
Which is supposed to
Comfort me.
It just doesn’t work that way.
We have safety in numbers
Safety to bump into each other,
To brush up against to validate
The similarity.
I feel alone now,
Just a few friends left to really
Talk to,
Talk to with common ground
And shared history.
I am carrying more and more memories now,
Not used to so much,
Bitter sweet,
Bitter and
Sweet.
G. M. Goodwin
15 September 2017
Playing Fair and Being Kind 