I will be seventy tomorrow
How I wish I had been writing
When I was in my thirties and living among bandits and thieves
Or in my twenties when carousing saloons and bars or in my teens
When playing twisted vandal or — but wait …

I did write when I was a teen
Something about the meaning of life
and the future of humankind

it was a disjointed poem about man
evolving into automata and living in split-level tombs
Having satisfied all their earthly wants and needs
Bored and packed away from the realities of living

I remember giving this poem to my cousin
who turned it in for an english assignment and
ended up having it published and winning an award for it.

But thinking back further I wish I had been writing
of my life in my youth, learning about female anatomy
in my backyard tent or under our porch
with the neighborhood girls.

My quest for speed and coolness
with hotrods and sports cars
and houses and yards. And,
more recently with my adventures
as an artist on the road.

and my happiness
at having survived
still free
from the daily grind
which seems to have
consumed most
whom I have known.

for what?

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