Russell's Table

I age. I ache. I find it hard to summon
Much enthusiasm for the future, or the
Present. Does this mean that I am
Headed for a seat at Russell's table,
Nodding with the other grumps to
Claims the world's gone to hell?
“It started with the blacks, you know.
They never really had it bad, but
Now they ask for everything,” “and
Women think they want to work.
They don't raise children anymore,”
“And people from around the world,
Wearing turbans, sticking to the
Languages which no one knows,
Come here to take the better jobs,
The ones we would have taken if
We'd ever had much use for school,”
“But all the schools are ruined now
By union teachers.” “All the things
We liked to do are banned by laws
And bureaucrats.” If not for
Pension checks and wives who
Still go off to work each day,
The crabs who sit at Russell's
Table couldn't gather afternoons
To drink their beers, and moan
And groan. I ache. I do my share
Of moaning. Still, I'll stay here at
The bar to flirt with barmaids half
My age, to share jokes with my
Wrong-hued friends, and hope I
Never reach the point where I go
Take that seat.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 62 times
Written on 2016-05-10 at 17:22

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