Ode to Sixty Years

Ode to 60 Years
---------------------

I woke up this morning
dark outside
sun long from arriving ...
two thirty ... a bit early ...

but the humidity sticks to my skin
like old moss
in an east Texas cellar

I take a pee
then look in the mirror
and there's this old man staring back at me

"welcome to the third act"
he says ...
sixty years
the third age
the final leg of a journey that started
on a dairy farm on the outskirts of Houston, Texas
and stumbled across ten states
fifty houses
two kids somewhere in the wind
two marriages
and more careers
than an alcholic ranch hand

the mythology of it all
fascinates me

but in the end
its just me and the contessa
"jalopy" bodies crumbling
preparing for the fires that consume us all

so I scoop the vanilla ice cream into
a frosted glass
and lift the root beer high

to salute ...

the stones we threw into
the Irish sea in St Davids, Wales
at the edge of the ancient stone circle where
we married ourselves ... first ...

to salute ...

the gypsies living in their trash house
beneath the tracks at the
Ponte Mammolo station in Rome
(sotto il binario della stazione metropolitana di
Ponte mammolo a Roma)

and sit down for a real conversation
with Pier Paolo Pasolini

to discuss the intricacies of the plot in his film
Mamma Roma

josjr (2011 0803)