eying teens from the porch of my golden years
dry lips working the intricacies of a square whiskey glass
i imagine myself to be quite happy, loyal to my wife
and to the dreams that i could have sworn finished me early on

i imagine missing my parents, my grandmother, my second dog
missing the things that one misses when the sex life sours
the commercial breaks of my middle-age, the forgotten hours
add up to the sighs of "where has all that time gone?"

i imagine myself thinking that i'm not the one
my wife ever thought she'd end up aging along side of
a man who'd let the ants and roaches win
a man who used to be someone, finally giving in