Who Is This Codger?

after Billy Collins, on a bad day





I've considered suicide
who hasn't? Taking up an addiction,
or at least maintaining a respectable
blood alcohol level. Hate it some days
knowing I'm not wired that way. When I cast a line
for the outrageous, I hear:
ride the bike to Mongolia, bring
home a Coyote Ugly's dancer to meet
the wife, buy weapons, learn to
monitor the neighbors with hi-tech
spy toys, go huntin' with Rodg. Re-visit
that clothing optional beach era, be Rabbit
Redux, try out a techno rave. None of it
works. I'm inept, dammit. This gray
dullness is my forté, dirt and asphalt
my closest friends, I find that fees
must be paid to convince anyone
of my prowess. Where did it all go?
Who is this codger I've become?