At this age 
I’m an exclusive 
no longer generic
or young or
freshly minted squeezed
or canned I’ve 
been steeping and 
seeping too long 
too late and 
far too often 
a tad bitter
a bit spicy 
but always smooth 
sweet and mellow 
never thrown back 
like an afterthought 
only ever sipped 
and slowly savored 

In my bubble 
away from others 
I lazily swim
bloop bloop bloop
back and forth 
nary a care
round and round 
I go from 
room to room 
and back picking 
up this and 
that then back
just a goldfish 
in a bowl 
on a counter 
sometimes I imagine 
I’m a bird
in the bubble 
of blue sky 

What’s that 
the present 
heard the 
past say
that’s you 
when just 
a child 
and I
am the 
adult having 
learned from 
your mistakes 

Unexpected things accidents
and whoopsie daisies 
greeted me today 
power outage fire
alarm and knocked 
over water glasses 
such are humbling 
things reminding me 
that no matter 
how perfect I
might think my
little life is 
my old pal
Murphy and his 
law tags along 

Just me
being silly 
by myself 
telling jokes 
and singing 
happiness is 
little more
than the 
hum of
one’s heart 
heard by 
some or
by none 
but me