Montreal is home
I can't wait to be old,
driving around on those little scooters,
farting without apologizing
speaking my mind without giving a damm.
Pulling into Walmart with a handicap sticker, waving my middle finger at the non VIP's.
Smelling like a skunk and not giving a crap, getting discounts off of crap that I throw in my cart.
Holding up the checkout line as I babble about the weather, or maybe the good old days when I was a Marathon runner.
Pretend I'm hard of hearing if someone complains, move like a snail for what the heck I'm old.
Poke them with my cane and blame it on my eyesight,
garner sympathy from the cute cashier, as she packs my bags and waives me a smile,
head to my car I'll do the same each week,
Forgetting about the past week
when I poked some jerk with my cane,
and rambled on about my marathons to a cute cashier in aisle ten,
as I blame it on my shoddy memories and start the blasted thing again.
Welcome to my tiny corner of the Universe. I have written stories and poetry for many years. I believe that everyone has a story to tell, that we are all remarkable beings with a soul and a purpose, my goal as a writer is to shed some light in the unseen world.