Bad Smell

You can’t do anything about it, So why should you fret? I’ve been bitten, made lame, battered, bitter and shuttered, Since before you were born And you won’t expect to see any change at this late date Until I’m in the grave. Even I don’t expect more than that. All I can do these days, After so much time misspent And so much energy gone for rent, Is to keep a little occupied, Even if it’s only in my head or fingertips While my house and body slowly decay, None too visibly, perhaps, but certain Like a bad smell gone astray in a closed room. (Now that’s a pleasant way To speak about oneself.) rcs Created on 11/18/2009 4:51 PM