Hot, Sticky Sidewalk. Poem by willow moon pearce

It is 11 pm and the 100th time
I think back on my lifetime
Of mostly successes.
Life diminishing as age creeps
Upon you.
As my friend said,
'Old age is a cruel joke'.

I stupidly thought that as age progresses
Someone or something would look after me.
Give me warmth, food and shelter.
My food today, being a piece of pizza
Out of the 7-11 dupster.
And endless bitter coffee, from the shelters.

It took a while but I have
Got used to insults and practicle jokes
From the young.
I sometimes think of telling them
That I was at Woodstock
Supporting the supergroups.
Yeah! I was hip!

Everything went well unitil I lost my job,
My health insurance and my home.
The people you see were once married,
Had jobs and had our earthly treasures.
We are the fathers, mothers, sons and daughters
Caught in a web, we cannot escape from.
I don't need much now
Just to be fed and kept warm.
Instead, it is a whirlpool of despair
Please don't ignore me.
We are legion.