WHATEVER YOU FEEL LIKE DOING

Best thing about being older, retired,
is you can do whatever whenever -
whatever you feel like doing.

Get a Chicago dog, all the trimmin's,
bus to the ballpark, take in a game,
stop at a sports bar, down a few cold ones.

Take a hike in the hills, the woods -
piss in the bushes, shake it at leisure.
Leave it unzipped if you want.

Read the latest thriller that's been
waiting a year for you - snooze
if you figure it out by Chapter Two.

Go to the mall, watch the young chicks
in short-shorts, buy a few sport shirts,
a new pair of sneakers, let off some gas.

Drive around town, count the for-sale signs,
see what they're asking, chuckle at
having no mortgage, just routine bills.

Call your investment guy, see where
your stocks are headed, be glad you went
conservative, protected your nest-egg.

Get a double cheeseburger at the drive-thru,
sit in the park, eating a leisure, still
nagged by the honey-do list she left you.

Bill Roberts is trying to solve the mystery of how it is his Oklahoma grandparents produces 22 offspring while he and his wife of fifty years to date have yielded none, so they adopt untrainable dogs. Bill's poetry is widespread in small-press and online magazines. He lives much too close to the edge in Broomfield, Colorado where he can be contacted at marcorosie@comcast.net.