SOLO
Now of a certain age,
I have far fewer friends,
but the few are truer.
All that I know seems dated,
myself included.
Prospects
of immortality no longer
lure me nor do those honors
seemingly awarded more
for notoriety than worth.
I call
the current primacy of film
over books a vote for recognition
over understanding.
I hear
no poetry in oratory.
For me
the trend of certain males
to stay unbarbered and unshaven
leaves hidden their naked faces.
Though some extol tattoos
as body art, I see no more
than ink injected for exhibit‒
skin-shows.
When mocked, I feel
no need for self-defense unless
provoked.
Before death corners me,
I say my only options are
to keep on doing what I do
as long as possible and leave
at least and last a good name.