Not Even the French Laugh at Me

Not Even the French Laugh at Me

I never wanted to be the man farting

in the basement, so fat bending over

winds him. Idiosyncrasies depreciate

with age. Masturbation dulls when

you realize women my age pee when

they laugh, and the young are so

young. Remember: I stopped smoking

for you, learned the secret of language

and put on pants. Once, I ate murder

for lunch because I skipped breakfast,

spoke in riddles only the elect understood.

Now, I can barely handle tomatoes.

But the basement is warm and full

of comfortable things. I don’t need

to see what isn’t being used anymore.

I can open a window to help with the smell.

It’s too loud upstairs and they don’t

allow beer. In the dark, I forget and remember.