Yesterday, we sat and watched
A sitcom on
TV
From early
in the 70’s,
But what was
strange to me
Was hearing
Archie Bunker’s rants
About the
U.S.A.
And things
that he was saying
Echoed words
I hear today.
He argued
with his son-in-law
About the government,
Defending
Richard Nixon
To his
daughter’s discontent.
That show
reflects some current themes
But somehow
in the past,
It made us
laugh; those same thoughts
Uttered now
leave us aghast.
The smiling bride, the handsome groom –
A happy
couple, you’d assume –
Arranged before
a camera’s click,
A moment
captured, swift and slick.
The tension
not apparent there –
Instead, a
calm and lovely pair,
Which no
observer would suspect
Was, from
the stresses, close to wrecked.
Beneath
their unsuspecting gaze,
Their married
life, in every phase,
Awaits the
pleasures and the pain
That newlyweds
can’t ascertain.
Within its
frame, on shelf or wall,
(Unless
removed with break-up’s call)
The handsome
groom and smiling bride
Stare at the
future, side by side.
Seen on my walk – a delivery truck
Was being
unloaded. One box
Was plunked
on the ground; some may be out of luck
For its eggs
might have suffered some shocks.
Another
block on, there was parked on the street,
With a
fender that suffered a wham!
A new pick-up
truck named, just to make it complete,
In big
letters, you guessed it – a RAM!
Saw three
pickleball games and a guy with green hair –
Just a
typical 6 a.m. sight.
In the city,
no matter the time, you’ll be where
Something’s
sure to surprise or delight.
My aunt complained
at “cocktail hour,”
All they
served was juice,
The definition
of this drink,
Sans alcohol,
too loose.
She’s in
assisted living now,
At almost 98;
With many
neighbors wheelchair-bound,
She simply
can’t relate.
Her balance
is an issue, though,
And even
with her phone,
It’s clear
that, though she disagrees,
She shouldn’t
be alone.
I can’t
imagine being told
That others
can decide
That where
you’ve lived no longer is
The place
where you’ll reside.
It may be
necessary; still,
Though safety’s
a concern,
The loss of
one’s autonomy
Is something I would spurn.
The AQI* has me obsessed.
I check it
every hour
And rising
numbers get me stressed;
It’s not
within our power
To change
what all the wildfires wrought.
The smoky
haze that’s drifting,
Despite how
first responders fought,
Is growing
and keeps shifting.
So miles
away, our air is filled
With
particles unhealthy
And, though
the fighting crews are skilled,
Pollutants
are quite stealthy.
While venturing
outside, we might
Breathe
ozone and some oxides,
Invisible to
normal sight
But felt
inside as toxides.
The AQI goes
up and down,
With
warnings – if you’re older,
Don’t
venture out around the town
While fires
burn or smolder.
*Air Quality
Index
Just read two different articles
About a certain tick -
The lone star - which can make
A person very, very sick.
Of course, we’ve heard of Lyme disease
(Which deer ticks often spread),
But lone stars may cause allergies
Which make some people dead.
A syndrome, known as alpha-gal,
Passed on by this tick’s bite,
May trip a strange reaction
Which the body cannot fight.
So someone eating burgers
Or a lamb chop or a steak
Might go into shock if prior,
A tick’s bite his skin did break.
It seems ironic that in summer,
Life is lived outside,
The perfect place where all these
Little buggers like to hide.
I go to bed early.
I do not use Zelle.
When changes occur in life,
I don’t do well.
I no longer drive
And, though crowds I’ll avoid,
I like life in the city;
Still, I get annoyed
By unwarranted noise
Sometimes blasting outside
From a scooter or car,
Music I can’t abide.
With no iPad, I type
On a desktop P.C.
And the coffee I perk
On the stove works for me.
Where religion’s concerned,
I’m a Jew, but don’t pray
And my politics veer
Far from You-Know-Who’s sway.
I’m technology-challenged,
Afraid of A.I.,
So the outlier handle
I will not deny.
