WHISKEY, X-RAY, YANKEE, ZULU...
THE END OF THE ALPHABET.
The end of so very much,
other than the alphabet.
The end of my life.
The end of my thoughts.
The end of my attitudes about things.
Things that should matter to me,
But they don’t.
Not any more.
Not much, anyway.

I should have had it all together by now.
Not even close.
Not even f***ing close.
And now I’m 74 damn years old,
And adding to that number, every minute.
It’s sort of depressing,
You know?

Where am I going with this?
Hell, I don’t know.
Where have I been,
Up to now?
Don’t know that, either.
Does it matter?
I don’t think so.
It probably should,
But I can’t come up with a why –
A reason.

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