old dog

by underswansea


he handed me a drink.

a pure twinkle in ‘is eye.


you were drugged out of forster creek, behind a ski doo, trying not to cross those old wooden skis,

that’s’ when I knew ya.

the night ya lay dreaming

when still up to trying.

falling backwards down a mountain knowin’ you’d land on your feet.

that old confidence along with the good luck is long gone now.

the fire in the air. the love. and all the rest between the ages.

still plenty of losses but the hide is thick.

i took a swallow and felt a board break over my shoulder.

it didn’t matter nor did i care.

time was dwindle.

with still plenty o’ destroying left to do.