Midlife Amergency

Midlife crisis down the road.
Sold the wagon, getting old.

Wife is sitting in the clinic,
in-vitro, viva, I the cynic.

Think about the Keogh plan.
Frenches for a Scrabble cram.

Decide the school-board election.
We control the local section.

Financial planner is grasped securely,
even I drive immaturely.

Power steering, nose-hair clippers.
Thalidomide, kids like Flipper.

Melatonin supplements,
drowsy Late News accutrements.

Now I read to fall asleep.
Books on Virtue gives me the creeps.

Gave up smoking, took up eating.
Waistline taking such a beating.

Doing yoga, purge my loins,
step aerobics, clanging coins.

Prepackaged salads from MacDonald's,
lima beans are toxic Ronald.

Medicare, managed care,
finally Sally no one cares.

Took a leap dressing down,
as long as Bill is not around.

Stephen Jobs where is he.
Paid for sensibilities.

Relaxed-fit jeans, Armani wear,
Spandex tights will never tear.

Forget the job security,
vitamin E is saving me.

Nanny screening, on the phone,
not a child left all alone.

Family time and overtime,
overkill and over rhyme.

The radio, it's Bonnie Raitt.
Mr. Coffee does not percolate.

Linda Ronstadt, she's no more,
Sombrero singers just stay poor.

Last kid then tubal ligation,
no birth control just libation.

Take up exercise, body shaper,
rolo flexer, flabbo draper.

Shin splints on a Canyon ranch.
Was a nice day, now we're drenched.

It's always easier to whine,
forget my loans, drink some wine.

Katie Couric, Connie Chung.
Married tabloids while so young.

Two guns up his sleeve,
that's what taxi drivers need.

Female movies, Reagan years.
Nell's a Babe and John's in tears.

Only Food Mart chocolate beads,
the raisinets on which I feed.

Little soccer, big league suits
pee-wee football, go Rocke Knutes.

My wife complains, breast-cancer screening,
clamped thin as crepes, that's her screaming.

Doctor reads, short order cook,
more tall tales, big thick books.

Home test pink, the rabbit died,
the fur is stained, this lady's fried.

Personal best, not a team player.
Arthur Ashe, meet Rod Laver.

Believing Forrest Gump is real,
waiting for another meal.

Till the air bag keeps me from flying,
slow down, slow down, hey I'm trying.

Talkin' 'bout my generation,
tell me plainly, is there salvation?

Finally joined the PTA,
it's no union, Norma Ray.

Tell them about Discovery Zone.
Watch the little cretins groan.

Mel Gibson comes to TV town,
Jessica Lange and that gown.

Started in the motel room,
riding on her little broom,

Working on the roads with ease,
panty strips prevent disease.

Nicotine patch it keeps me writing,
and my finger nails a biting.

Till they page me and I run screaming,
We're having twins, I must be dreaming.

© 1996 L. Van Warren