Geschlossen

He's getting older
worried more about shit
shape, consistency, regularity
when was the last time
he went?

he thinks about shit more
than most things now,
besides cancer and how
many years he's got left,
and this person he knew
died at 40 young.

she asks him what he
wants out of life,
but sometimes it feels shallow,
like it's multiple choice,
with no option
for all of the above.
he's thinking about shit
tho while she talks,
and his bloated stomach
wondering if he ate too little,
or if he ate the wrong things,
or maybe it was too much,
he thinks of fiber
and caffeine.

often he considers stepping
off the tracks, wandering away,
swerving his car into a barricade,
but is that even possible,
can it be done? or is he just eyes
and mind watching his body
move and work and follow lines?

it's so tiring getting up,
sitting, laying back down,
if he closes his eyes
another day has gone.

he is sure he'll shit tomorrow,
at the very least, the day after that,
just relax, don't stress out,
a coffee will fix it, some cold
water right after you wake,
maybe sprinkled with
lemon juice, lime juice,
from a home remedy
he read online.

every tomorrow
there's the same dress shirts
hanging side by side,
sometimes they're thrown over a chair
sleeves still rolled up to elbows;
through the window cuts the
morning workaday sun.
how often does it do that?
how many years have slipped away?