Old Age

I never expected old age to be
like this. Outliving my closest friends,
all passion unshared except in work,
I'm now a man whose best friend is
a dog.

The fantasy was this:
a warm and sunny climate,
living within walking distance
of the essentials, a library,
a coffee shop, a market

my wife alive and well
our dog alive and well

but new friends, too, met on
daily strolls around the essential
geography of a new life, new friends
for stimulating conversation
and a new audience for old stories.

But there's no one to talk to.

Instead I eavesdrop on the conversations
of fictional characters who say so many
things I wish I could say myself
to Dick, to Ger,
the friends long gone,
who would reply in conversation
and not give me the curious stare
of a dog who must wonder why I say
so many things that aren't
in a dog's vocabulary.

--Charles Deemer