He wrote, talked about man

the existential loneliness of

man I suppose, or was he

hungry for a peach out of

season he could not afford?

The prices asked for imported

fruit and vegetables! He grew old

he grew old, he grew old, he knew

where cheaper trousers were often

sold to the oldsters pawing through the

Goodwill offerings of discarded books,

colorful straw boaters, scarves, bric-a-brac,

what-nots salvaged from another man’s

lyrics. What is this diatribe about you’ve read he wasn’t very nice,

an anti-Semite too, he grew old, in disfavor, unhappily

married to a manic depressive, who was put away. She grew

old and barely ever complained she dared not eat a peach.