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a very old man died last saturday
surrounded by family in his bed
the moon shone on waves of grain
and the corn grew another leaf

 that old man was my dads dad, my grandfather. long for this earth he was. older than 90. three times as old as i am. 3.46 times as old as i am. maybe even more times older than i am. the last time i saw him we were at a hotel in new york. he bought me lunch. he was with his new wife of 30 years. we made small talk. his hearing was bad. gotta go back to work now. i love you, i'll see you later. well, that was a lie. the impending became the happening. we all die. we are all going to die. it will be specific when it happens to us. but the idea is so vague and far away. it is a horse on a hill and life is the yapping dog at our feet. dont kick the dog. dont ride the horse. go down to the river and go for a swim. let the sun burn your skin. you are in the desert. you are growing apples. this is your orchard. you are king of the bees. the bumps on your back are not an allergic reaction. thats just your body telling you you are narcissistic. some people want to feed that. some people will take your money and tell you your five greatest strengths. and then you sit at your computer and type away the time because you have good music on and you dont want to watch stupid television. its all so bad.

this is the moment you have been waiting for. all cold outside in the summer. all rain and gloom. all light and tomato plants. all potential. all dunks. well, someday you will break another bone. someday the problems of now will be the problems of then. you'll stop needing therapy and be old. you will accept things. you will peak. and then you will be on the glorious back slope. sliding down with your heels in the dirt. what can you do really to win the game? outlive the opponent. not in tennis. not in basketball. but in the real competition. in life. in the system of chaos. capitalism. marxism. buttholism. alcoholism. this is step two hundered and six oh four. i took four shits today. i wrote some letters and some emails. i told some lies. i smiled meekly. i accepted it. i woke up. i rode my bike. i woke my muscles up. a homeless man told me 'peace out man' and i looked him in the eye and smiled. peace out man. i dreamed i was in prison last night. then i got in my shitty car and drove away. my boots were too small.

these are very specific images in my mind. these are memories that shape my ideas about a part of the world and a part of my family. a part of my own father and a part of my life. a part of my childhood that is a mystery. i still dont know what that smell was. or why i pissed in the bath tub and thought he wouldnt notice.

last night before i called my sister and found out my grandfather had passed away i was riding my bike home in the dark after class. i thought about my own father, my grandfathers son. i thought about the day when he will pass away. and i thought i might play a tennis tournament for old men and win it in his honor. the thought was so beautiful and impossible that it made me cry. not pedaling, just letting gravity pull me down the hill to my home.