The Ole

He wakes with aches and pains, with no comfort.

As the slug moves, so does he, quiet and unearthy.

Moving his whole to the morning routine, wishing

To be in the Past, he sobs.

The soundless air is interrupted by television news—

The worst kind.  Ignoring the politics and plane crashes,

He imagines fields of sunflowers, green grass, and 

Large oak Trees for sitting and swinging;

Chasing lizards, with the sister, he laughs honestly.

He is most sincere at this mental moment.  

Then like death, he enters the depression-filled jail cell,

But instead of traditional cylinders, there is only the

Open Exit he cannot reach; he cannot move

He is strapped down and confined to the chair, 

Not mentally, emotionally.

Is there Hope?  Or do you believe in the finale?

Goodbye then.  Good luck to you in the next life.

I will remember and tell others of you.