Of
course when I was a child I played—
spent
time with friends riding my bike,
flipping
baseball cards and skipping flat
rocks
across the creek. Oh, and there was
school
when I came of age, but I never
let
that get in the way. After 3 o’clock
there
was always play. I’ll have to admit,
as
a teen I managed to ignore most of
school
the same, except for my art class
where
I was always eager to apply my
best.
Then there was the Army at seven-
teen,
they kept me busy with all manner
of
military routine. After my service was
done,
I had a wife and child to support.
I
had jobs throughout the years, one after
another,
but mostly I did that which was
assigned
for me to perform. But honestly,
folks,
none of them ignited the best in me.
And
now, divorced, widowed and retired,
I’m
finally allowed to be me, the complete
“I
could give a shit,” disheveled slob of a
guy
I was always intended to be. I’m a
72-year
old, long haired and bearded
hippie
emergent from the latent seed
which
has been waiting to grow in me
from
the get-go. People ask what is my
secret
formula for writing poetry every
day.
(Don’t let on to those you hate for
they
deserve working their asses off for
nothing
every day.) But between you and
me,
do what you love to do, and then take
a
good long nap when your done. That’s
why
I don't waste my time trying to make
these
damned lines rhyme. But you do
know,
even so, shit does still happen every
once
in a while.
Chris
Hanch 3-3-19
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