Poem: Mid-Life

his sand is dwindling
upper bulb empties like a camel voiding
it's twin bulb  accepting his old chairs and velvet paintings
he watches a rerun of Hogan's Heros across the flat screen 
Colonel Klink is shorter, wider
the farce is more encompassing
  

He ceases to watch the evening news for fear of disappointment
food no longer drives him to hit the MAC machines then the store
tasks have a steamer trunk sense of long term storage



dunes precipitate around his monstrous Barcalounger
Morse code of civics awards along the fire place 
chatters out  entropy
 is terminal pancake batter expanding outward
till the edges bubble
the shell turns crisp
he is plated