Broken, But Not Defeated

I sit in sheltered shade of cottonwood and pine,
The sky is lite for the sun lay bright.
I wait patiently for the starting of a semi-cool breeze
But none comes to rescue me, the hour is not yet right.
I make sure as I glance around my cozy environment
That brakes on my wheelchair are drawn tight,
I parked on an incline for a better view; a longer sight.

Sunflakes, unlike snowflakes, break through
The filtered mass of limbs and leaves
Striking silently.
Quickly, noticeably in a now stirring breeze
That has somehow managed to find me in my hiding spot;
Has an hour already passed? In my book I delight.

I sip a sip of now lukewarm O’Douls for it’s
Lack of alcohol doesn’t mess with my metabolism
Fueled by an angry mob of pills morn, noon, night.
I could have drank it all when I started, when
It was still cold, but even fake beer is meant to last,
Besides, it is in this warmth I get a secret blast-
perhaps beer does not need alcohol. The hops bring that
Lovely, tingling sensation of the forehead when first attacked.

I wish to walk, to rise from my chair and lay
In the fresh mown grass that beautify these grounds
Encircling where I now live. Forever? God, I hope not.
If I were to lay down I know I could never arise unaided,
I wish not to spend my remaining years laying prone,
Far away from civilization, say a hundred yards or so.

What I secretly want, sensuously wish, say more
A passion than desire, would be to lay in the coolness
Of shade, devoid of clothing, feeling the prickling, itching
Fibers as grass stems stab my bare back and the faint
Breeze attacks my nipples to harden them as I
Lay there staring at rich, blue filtered sky
Trickling through the trees; aroused, I savor a stronger breeze,
And all too soon find my hand to feel graciously what it has felt,
As I grow and gain erect and wonder if I dare.

It feels like it should, but it is not the same.
The measure of satisfaction from erroneous zones
Is made for sharing, not self-gratification-
So I reluctantly remove my hand,
Satisfied it can still do what it did
And now concentrate to make shapes of animals
Passing by in white, puffing, billowed clouds visiting far above,
Alone, and I wait a spell but my nipples are still erect
And so am I.

I look around as if I can’t see I can’t be seen
With bushes close by and wonder why and how and what
It was that possessed me to crawl that few feet,
That just as well been a mile,
To disrobe and allow myself to feel the luxury
Of heated passion albeit a lonely one, but now and
When and how will I ever be able to dress
As if never naked and crawl to the safety of the chair
As if I never left?

The cell phone, a gift from my daughter
That feared I may fall and in the anguish of awaiting discovery
Is charged and in pocket, but how do I explain when they do rescue me? They know, but do I need to prove by example?

I somehow brought my nearly empty bottle
With me and sucked the few remaining drops
And licked the neck of the dark amber,
Sleek, long-necked glass and thought of parties and fun things past,
The type one ponders and once wished to last.
How long has it been when I drank real beer
And felt the freedom of the wild without garment?
Even more, what of that first time
I shared the cool bottle with her that summer nite
Between middle school and high school
And we bashfully touched until lips met
And the taste and tingling of tongues aroused?
How many times did we oft repeat this wondrous feat
And boldly went to discover more until that final
Night of innocence as I looked down in your eyes and
You looked up at the stars as we made awkward love
In the bed of my father’s ‘64 Chevy pickup truck.

We soon broke up.

Others came, others went, never to equal that first time
Of making love without knowing how other than it worked.
Other days, different nights, in fresh mountain meadows
And broken-down old pickup trucks,
The stadium backseat of dad’s new Plymouth Fury
As the flicker of light filled the night
On a drive-inn screen, yet another movie watched unseen,
until age and wisdom both united us at last,
One-night stands now a thing long past.

Now lying here amidst my dreams
When love decays and turns an
Ugly head, I learn it’s no one’s fault
And, no matter how the heart
Does yearn, as the soul does burn for
All that love and warmth,
It is possible to live without both.

I crawl, decide not to call to, drag myself,
Longing for the two strong legs that carried me as I chased pheasants , footballs tossed and running, laughing children.

I pull up myself as if beating myself to down,
I limply pull up pants, trying my best to zip
Them while seated, another impossible task;
And remembered again at last,
I am a man broken, but not defeated.