OLD MAN POEMS
I’d lay my pipe on the table beside the chair
And get on the exercise bike
That had belonged to one of the Clydes.
It was the best thing for the cancer,
The doctor told me. After a while
I could go five miles, sometimes
Twice in one day, and I’d watch
A Braves game while I pedaled
Or listen to music on the headphones
Cause otherwise my wife’d try to talk
And a man with cancer hasn’t got time
To talk while he’s riding a bicycle
That is taking him nowhere.