Old Dude

Old Dude
© 2003 by O. Wade

Well, I got Preparation H in the seat of my pants.
My teeth… they're over there on the shelf.
I walk with a stoop and my eyelids droop.
Sometimes I wet myself.

A three-year old could count the hair on my head.
I can't see the length of my arm.
I've got my hearing aid turned up full volume.
I'm having trouble keeping warm.

I got varicose veins, but you can't see them
Under these skin-colored support hose.
My head is stopped up and I can't breathe.
Might as well not have a nose.

What's left of my hair is falling out. It's slowly beginning to disappear.
Instead of growing out, it's growing down and coming out of my ears.

Got more wrinkles than a California prune. My bowels are no longer free.
Can't sleep well all night long from having to get up to pee.

My arteries are constricted and my bowels are inflicted.
My mind is…my mind is… my mind is slowly slipping away.
Things I used to get over, I can't even get under.
Seems to get worse each day.

Old Arthurs' at home, deep in my bones. You should see the pills that I take.
Right after supper, I need a coffee picker-upper. It's the only way I can stay awake.

These coke bottle-glasses make me squint like a weasel
Just to see the print in the paper.
I can't eat onions, or beans, or peppers.
Fill me full of vapor.

Can't sit in a chair to read a book.
My back aches all the way down to my knees.
All the nice things that used to smell so good.
All they do now is make me sneeze.

Well, I've crested my mountain.
I see the river below, and almost the other side.
When the ferryman comes, I'll get on the boat
I've paid in full for this ride.