The Old Ones

The old ones, the old ones are coming,

keep coming, by cane and wheelchair,

their teeth in glasses, their thinning hair,

their seizures and strokes, their stained underwear,

hard now of hearing (their ears full of hair),

complaining of pains, medicaid, medicare.

They are coming, keep coming, with vacant looks,

with worn-out bibles and large-print books,

with photo albums of long-dead friends,

coming to visit in hospital beds,

telling, retelling their tales of old times,

their skin gone slack

and spotted and veined,

coming to see you

coming to stay,

coming, coming

to be with you,

to be, to be you,

to be you.

Hey, one last thing.

In a media environment that tolerates tail-chasing, gutlessness, and all kinds of ratfuckery, The Baffler is a rare publication willing to shake the pundit class free of their own worst impulses. We can’t help it. We’re humanitarians at heart.

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