I a old enough

(5 months until 73)

to know how the idea of the ideal

is supposed to look and feel

and

why the practical realities of living

create the different is-ness-es

of life’s pragmatic outcomes.

I know steak tartar

or a thick, juicy hunk of filet minion

are glorious adventures in “culinary”

But given the typical frugality

of an old mans financialarity,

an eight oz. swiss-cheese burger

with a fresh tomato slice

on a sesame seed bun

is a satisfying repast.

I know that the penetrated vaginal tunnel

is a fulfilling location

for the steaming masculine locomotive.

But, given chronology, physiology,

just plain old gerontology as it is now,

the oral

or

voyage of the fingers

methodologies

are equally appealing

and sufficient unto

the lay-there-of

and enough.

In fact,

more often than not,

good enough –

is.

And O know I won’t be left

hungry,

any time soon, anyway,

for anything.