inevitability

 

From baby to boozer.

That’s how I grew to be.

Parts of me came from

dedicated malpractice,

some developed naturally—

predisposed genetically,

medical and psychological

professionals tend to agree.

.

A Jew, a Muslim and a

Christian walk into a bar.

The Jew and the Christian

order gin martinis; the

Muslim gets a Roy Rogers.

And I, the guy sitting at the

far end of the bar, forgetting

the punch line was downing

my double vodka. I tell the

barkeep to forgo pouring refills

and leave the bottle with me.

Drunk or sober, I use to

tell corny jokes

indiscriminately.

(I just love that word,

indiscriminately,

don’t you?)

Anyway, my boozing

days are over, and so is

the telling of corny jokes.

Seems that with the onset

of old age so goes the

telling of anything clever

or funny. Can’t change

some of those genetic

dispositions anymore.

Memory loss takes

over naturally, my friends.

Punch lines are lost inevitably,

and the joke turns out to be

on me.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 8-5-202

Ocean View

It was a lot of water,

more than he had ever

seen before. Big rivers

he knew, the Midwestern

kind which ran for miles

from far north to the

Gulf of Mexico.

But this was an ocean,

the Pacific to be more

specific, water to the

left, water to the right,

water reaching out to

the horizon as far as

the eye could see.

He stood there for the

first time amazed on this

sunny California day.

More water than he had

ever seen before.

The Pacific Ocean…

Huh, he stood there

on the wooden pier

transfixed, wondering

what it was like on the

other side?

Would someone over

there likewise be looking

out wondering?

               -30-

Chris Hanch 8-4-2022

 

At Last

 

Cells replicate and multiply,

the body grows.

One brick is laid beside another,

one on top of another, and the

building rises.

One note on the piano, more to

follow, then music to the ear.

A child is born and the family

of two becomes three, four or more.

One piece is added to the puzzle,

more to follow, and soon the

picture is revealed.

How many bakers does it take to

bake a a three-layered cake?

I had to throw a rhyme into this

progressive scheme of mine,

not to add insult to injury but in

order to lengthen the size and scale

of my poetry.

One letter after another, you see, with

word after word to follow.

Line upon line building until at last,

the final line.

The show is over, folks, the end of the line.

(Please exit the theater from the rear.)

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 8-3-2022

Who and What You Have Become

 

I have lived long enough to know

who I am not. And that’s a lot.

Oh yes, I have been occasionally

envious of those who were more

than satisfied with the who they

turned out to be. Yet, I never

longed to be them.

Thought I’d let the days pass and

see what happens by choice and

chance to rub off on me. Figured

each day would find its own way,

and I’d be satisfied to go along for

the ride.

Never expected to reach age 75.

And then one day, voila! Old and

gray, hobbled in the hips and knees,

I have arrived.

No child I have known has ever

wished to turn out that way—

past prime time having seen

better days. Walk slowly and

enjoy. Don’t hurry up, dash and

run. Don’t sleep walk and fritter

time away either.

You are the experiential, gathered

up sum total of who and what you

have become.

Live life and be grateful. Old age

is meant for remembering how you

got to where you’ve come and need

to be.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 8-2-2022

Alternative

 

He mentioned the death of an acquaintance.

She was upset to hear his family was not insured.

His excuse to his wife was that insurance was too

expensive for them.

She chastised him for not being covered. The

voice-over spokesperson suggested Colonial Penn,

28-dollars a month for him, 22-dollars for her.

They were a handsome couple hired to pitch the TV

viewing audience at large. Having been in advertising

myself years ago, I could see the hype for what it was.

You see, there are no guarantees in life, my friend.

One pays either way as death is the inevitable reality.

I turned the channel to watch Seinfeld. I, uninsured

myself, prefer comedy as a cheaper alternative, and

the cleverly scripted ironic laugh instead.

                                      -30-

Chris Hanch 8-1-2022

Old Age Travelogue

 

Most days in my old age now,

my travel is restricted pretty much

from one room to another. Arthritic

disabilities deem it so.

In my younger days when I was

willing and able, I went where I

wanted or needed to go. With

my own transportation, I could

pick up and leave to most any-

where I pleased. With my passport

and disposable cash in my pocket

I could and occasionally did

venture out overseas.

But nowadays in my disabling old

age, I take a few steps from one

room to another recollecting some

of my fondest memories.

Pardon my dust, if you please,

what was your name again, and

how in hell did you get in here?

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 7-31-2022

The Ride

She loved fairy tales;

he loved horses

Want to ride, he asked her?

Sure, she answered. I have

to be back before dark.

He smiled and put out

his hand. Hop on.

And they rode off

headed toward the West.

She held on tight

arms around his waist.

Lovely day, he said.

Overhead at dusk,

a flock of geese

winged South

ahead of winter.

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 7-30-2022