3 Poignant Poems, Including “My Back to Nature Drive”

George and Dylan

He got drunk a lot
but never with style.
He didn’t stand at the bar,
reciting Shakespeare
between shots.
Nor did he romance
the single women,
with practiced lines
near poetry.
He merely slumped,
head between elbows,
and his voice went nowhere.

He was no Dylan Thomas.
Acolytes didn’t linger near
for quotes from his alcoholic breath.
Maybe a cuss word
dribbled from his mouth
from time to time,
but aimed at people not present.
And, like Dylan Thomas,
he was running out of time.
But he hadn’t the fire
to keep that dark night lit.

He was merely dragged home,
night after night,
until there was nothing left to drag.
No one got drunk at his wake.
But one dead guy got sober.

At a Certain Age

I have heard her say
“You’re only as young as you feel,”
while at the same time,
dreading the onset of 40.
It’s the contradiction
of her needing a man
while bemoaning those
that can’t live without one.
She longs for a child,
despises what that would
do to her body.
She’d love to stay home
like her mother did,
raise a family.
But she has to work
and she hates the word “housewife.”
Her gynecologist warns her
that the days are growing short.
After that last guy she dated,
it’s probably night already.
But she just got another promotion,
and she read that a woman in Russia
gave birth at sixty-two.
So time is the enemy
but it has its weak points.
And she’s only as young as she feels,
even as 40 fast approaches.
Maybe there’s an age
when the battle’s lost.
But it’s not this day
with the light at the window,
the maple blooming,
bright birds at the feeder.
It’s not this day,
here and now.
Then she sighs
as another day passes.
Only her relief has regrets.