Poem of the Day: “Old Is Fast” by Catherine Katey Johnson

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Old Is Fast” by Catherine Katey Johnson.  A brief biography of the poet may be found here:    http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2015/11/poem-of-day-moments-after-murrah-by.html.

Old Is Fast                                                                 

Catherine Katey Johnson

     

You got a new car

hood full of horses

face jammed against your skull

when pedal meets plush pile.

But that’s slo-mo, friend

‘cause old comes at cha fast.

It slams you into a brick wall

two-thirty in the morning

you’re about to wet the bed

so, you hurry to the bathroom

man that’s a trip

‘cause the five meds they got you on

give you the Tilt-a-whirl dizzies,

but you gotta’ get there fast

and you do

whirling lightning

that’s you

old real fast.

Dancing at the Prom yesterday

now you’re stirring

fiber in your juice.

Coughed up a piece of lung

before toes hit floor.

At the Casino, you realize

your insurance is a gamble, too

you’re betting you’ll die,

become dismembered, or worse.

How the hell do you win that bet

that bet against the temple?

And that stupid chin hair

comes back every thirty-minutes.

Jewelry box replaced

with old people trinkets

thermometer, BP cuff, hearing-aid,

moleskin toe pads,

corn removers, wart-off,

magnifying glass, Gel pads,

icy-hot patches, things to make you go,

things to make you stop,

medicated pads,

pads to catch the drips, flashlight,

tweezers for that damn chin hair.

All of it piles high overnight

‘cause old happens fast.

Your Mr. T starter kit

all says “Medic Alert”

diabetic,

pacemaker,

allergic to Ibuprofen,

Percocet,

Darvon,

Penicillin,

Latex,

and cherries.

On Aspirin,

on Norvasc,

on HCTZ, Zoloft,

on Glucophage and Niaspan,

on Donner and Blitzen,

shit, what was I saying?

Oh yeah, old is fast.

Titanium frames your blind eyes

binds your bones together

blood pressure’s up, pulse is down

so the Pacemaker zaps you forty-four percent

of every twenty-four/seven.

You went in for a sleep test

when sex probably would have fixed it

and came out with a Zippo sized lump

above your left tit

That happened fast.

Is that Raquel Welch on CSI?

Damn, I hope I look that good at seventy-one.

All I know is

it’ll be here in a minute.

And him over there, not any better.

His arteries get real hard.

If only he could use his arteries to--

He sets the TV tray aside to go get the mail

knees knocking into his man apples.

We’re old and we got here fast.

Poet’s Notes: I recall an abrupt awakening one night for an emergency rush to the bathroom. The medication I was on at the time had me so dizzy I had to cling to the wall and furniture to get to there in time. It was certainly a reality jolt, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I knew I would get old one day soon but I had no idea it had come upon me, or that it would come on so fast.  I looked at the two drawers of my nightstand filled with “old people trinkets.” The next thing I knew, I was writing this poem and chuckling all the way through it.

Editor’s Note:  I appreciate this poem's devastatingly ironic take on the aging process.  “Old is Fast” was first published in Elegant Rage:  An Anthology of Woody Guthrie Poets (Village Books Press, 2012).  The above image is NOT that of the poet.