It was 1950 and the old guy must have been

bored waiting for his wife in the grocery store,

as he sat behind the wheel of an azure green

Studebaker, paint bleached like an O’Keefe

ghostly skull in the sand..

When I looked out form my upstairs window

he was petting his pod in an absentminded way,

as if it could be his cherished old Weimereiner

settled at the side of his favorite chair.

His thing was extended in a limp sort of way

like a drooping Kelbosi in a butcher’s display.

When I was a Hawkeye student in Iowa City,

Cialis and Viagra were not even a dream.

I wonder why I remember the scene now,

perhaps it’s a a glimpse of the future,

a toll of the gold years ahead,

worry that tumescent extensions loaded

and ready for action will soon be a memory

like the mid-western milkmaids I dated from Keokuk

and Booneville, buxom, bovine and willing,

like Elvira Mohoney who many years later sent

a greeting at Christmas with six smiling critters

lined up in a row.

Milton P. Ehrlich 199 Christie St. Leonia, N.J. 07605