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Thursday, December 29, 2022

On the Porch

On the Porch

The winter sun is low
In the warmer afternoon.
I think about
What I sew.
Wispy clouds hang overhead,
The sky's tangled thread.
Snow melts to send
Rivulets of water
Down sides of the street.
Slight wind damage to the home
Next to me has peeled
The skirting down half the side
Which faces me with a reason
To call the office to complain.
No no no. I'm not that sort.
My complaints are about me.
They cover my eyes before sleep
To wonder about all my poor choices
And the basics of my gay life
Or lack of it now.
Old men need partners that began
In the warm days of life
When porches never needed me.
Sunny life follows those days
As two men should follow each other.
I lived in fear of everything around me.
Every thought was a question.
Then the day came I stood for myself.
It was just a minute.
Those seconds have guided these years
Into the quiet and alone.
I make my peace with those I hurt
Many mostly in silence.
There's no one to call.
There's no one to help with dishes
Or to share the handle of a vacuum.
Now the breeze gets colder.
The sun is deep in the West.
So I am needing to find some warmth
Off the porch to be forgotten.

Barry G.Wick

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