Down and Out






When I was young
and down and out
and wrote from pain and agony
from my one room apartment
on the other side of the tracks
I was told by people of affluence
who liked to hang out with writers
that it was good for me to be hungry
that this is the stuff great writers
are made of
and that some day I'd look back
on those days with fondness

Now at 65
I've moved up to a one bedroom
apartment in a better part of the city
and managed  to put some money away
and my closets and icebox are full
and I still have the old typewriter
that in the sixties and seventies
had me knocking at the door of success
a door that never quite fully opened
but whenever I think back on those days
it's not with fondness though
I can't deny that the women and parties
weren't fun
but the truth is that the apartment
the lack of money and the roaches
and mice were more a matter
of circumstances than necessity

You can go forward
or you can go backward
but the smell of shit is still the
smell of shit.

They say that art creates itself
but I don't think I'll ever
look back on those days
with fondness

E-mail: ad1936@juno.com


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