Bones begin to hurt. Walking used to be easy. Moved with a purpose. Now it’s a struggle to get across the street. Feet ache. Joints sore. A limp occurs. Dragging one foot. New shoes are no longer cool. I long for old sole friends.

Use it or lose it. That’s what they say. I think I lost it there on Van Buren. No longer able to keep pace. People move ahead of me. Fly by me. Go around. They glide against red lights that say don’t walk. I used to do that. Now I’m confined to the curb until a green says go. The legs tremble.

Chicago is a walking city. So is New York. Towns of my youth. I hiked all over them. Now I yell out, a cab, a cab. My country for a cab. And, there are none to be found. Yellow taxis once filled streets. Now you call and wait. An hour of waiting. Might as well have another drink. And wait. Life has become waiting.

Today I retired my walking shoes. Ripped soles. Holes in mesh. The cushion is no longer thick and comfortable. I’m no longer thick and comfortable. I’m growing thin. Maybe it’s time to sit for a while. And wait. Let the others go ahead. The pretty ones. Handsome boys. Let them get it out of their systems. I’ll sit and watch. Waiting. As people pass by.

Park benches make good friends. Stone or wood. They both feel good on old bones. I watch now. No longer in the game. It is easy. Just sit back and view. Life’s a movie. It goes from point A to point B. Look at it. The end always changes. Some are not as fortunate. They will not wait. Youth will have killed them. They will not grow old. Their bones will not hurt. They’ve left us. And here I sit. No plots have I made. It is simple. Just wait.

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