MY LAST HURRAH

MY LAST HURRAH

Here it comes, my last hurrah,
I hope that you are ready,
My talking skills they've gone awry,
My steps no longer steady.

Here it comes, my last hurrah,
Don't come at me with platitudes,
Yes, sirree, yes, sirree bob,
Don't try to change my attitude.
My life is like a sullen leaf,
Holding stubbornly to the tree.
Devoid of conscience and belief,
And longing for eternity.
The only thing that leaves me hanging,
Is a desperate fear of falling,
All amiss into the abyss,
Or else I'd heed my final calling.

If only for these goddam pills,
That keep me sane and chipper,
And leave my stomach torn to shreds,
I'd be floating past the great Big Dipper,
In sweet communion with the dead.
I owe my life and owe my bliss,
To my Walmart pharmacist.
And of course to my family nurse,
Who keeps those Effexors coming,
My healthy sheen is a well oiled machine,
It takes a team to keep it humming.
But still I know in my own sweet mind,
I'm running slowly out of time,
Still running amiss of my bucket list,
As I struggle to the finish line.

So I've decided in my dotage,
To be Matt Lauer on Today,
And to that end have cropped my hair,
You may have mistaken the two of us,
In your travels here and there.
I'll give you a clue and more's the pity,
Matt never comes to Stephens City.
So if you are in these parts and see a guy,
Sexy and buzz cut shorn at that.
Bazinga, it was only me, and not the hapless Matt.

Or perhaps with my sexy new do,
I will shun Matt Lauer and Today,
I hear his days of hosting are numbered anyway,
And my stutter would be bad for the ratings there at NBC.
Perhaps I shall endeavor to be all that I can be,
Even at my decrepit age.
To tote that gun and lift that bale,
Or work in the army mailroom sorting piles of mail.
Be a hero on the world's great stage
Try my hand as a soldier before i get much older.
If the US army doesn't want me,
Perhaps I'd be a hit with Israel or Gaza,
Or perhaps a UN ambassador,
My shiny dome lighting up the plaza.

But now it's back to bed for me to ponder all these things,
Choices, they can be exhausting, fortune's pesky arrows and slings.
Like Doris Day, I'll be blasé, it's que sera, sera,
But I'll be ready when it comes, to toast my last hurrah.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED