-a preamble to the days ahead as the planet continues to flatten-

1.
I don’t visit the elderly, (my contemporaries still among the living)

thereby relieving them of the daily requirement of anticipating my arrival.

and the young don’t visit me, not that I'd mind, and no one is turned away.

but I find myself in the enviable position of not having to expect anyone

freeing me to pursue my common procedures without outside annoyances,

meaning, I don't feel obligated to straighten-up the mess in the kitchen,

or feather-dust the knick knacks under an impending threat of company.

and that's that.

but I walk here and there on occasion, and drive the car to certain

places of interest like the new XtraMart, which glitters silvery

like Christmas in May. 

on the home front, I write non-fictional stories, arranging them

(with concentrations on syllabic count and how accents are pitched)
into narrow columns which I like to call:––– "poems."

2.

still, the elderly continue to consider bodily functions

far too often which is a source of discomfort for me,

and the young keep busy manipulating their thumbs upon

elegantly illuminated screens, and apart from the beauty of the process,

I find it unsettling, given my shortcomings in that arena.

in closing, I should say that friends and relations display
an affection toward me when they do show-up, although

the documents they leave behind are always in need of examination,

and revision, leading to my inevitable penchant for tattletaling...

as displayed herein.