In the dusty suburbs of a forgotten Mississippi town,
An old man waters his lawn-
The neighbor kids, how they run with such agility.
How they have no care of mortgage payments or insulin shots- his nightmarish reality.
Incessant whoops and cries grate on him, taunt him,
They unashamedly flaunt youth.
He remembered flaming at his mom,
How she apathetically shrugged at the mention of her birthday.
“Don’t you feel excitement anymore? Do you feel anything?”
Yet here he is, feeling the same apathy,
Wistfully suffocating in an endless 24 hour cycle
Of anti-aging creams and melancholy for the past.
He sighs as he trundles back and forth with his hose
Watching, watering, watching,
Coveting, craving, coveting,
Back and forth over the dying grass.