Old Man Stanley

Bedazzled Stanley falls in love and falls
from the barstool with equal abandon. How could he not,
his head filled with angels, mermaids, the call
of sirens – young women, all! Lover and sot,
Stanley feels the rush of blood in his brain
and vows never to chase young women again.

When he does take up the chase, bewildered
Stanley scares more away than meets,
a bear of a man, leaning out of kilter,
leering, no gent a decent woman seeks.
They flee. Stanley feels the brain’s red sting
and has another drink and starts to sing.

In his mind he woos them all, the tall
cheerleader at the game, the sultry actress
on the screen. In his mind they all
melt in his arms like snowflakes on the grass.
Stanley has a toddy for the road
and finally staggers home through dark and cold.

If gods are gentle, patient and alert,
they’ll find here a heart longing for embrace.
They’ll understand it’s too late to convert
this sordid soul, to have him stop the chase.
A man pursues the things for which he cares;
Stanley’s lust is water, food and air.

Call him what you will. Pathetic, wrong.
But Stanley gets to choose his own death song.

Charles Deemer

I have an image of Stanley. It's the Jack Nicholson character at the end of The Pledge, a hugely underrated movie directed wonderfully by Sean Penn, based on a novel by Durrenmatt (writer, director, actor all favorites -- how could it miss?), an old man drunk, drooling, bewildered, mumbling to himself. Frankly it's an image that haunts me about my own demise. I'd rather leave grinning -- but demons, alas, are demons. We shall see.