My friend Mark never had a chance,
a rare case blew his pieces off the board.
We played games together,
the games of middle age that involve
love and betrayal and children and divorce
and new lovers and remarriage
and photographing and hiking together
to get away
from the malestorm.
We were the back to the land Cheevers
of the 80s & 90s.

               ~~~

i’ve gone on
to find myself knee deep
in old age and have begun 
to face the hard fact
of uncertainty:
a condition we’re born into
but don’t believe until
the a/c dies during a heat event
and it’s too heavy to handle
and there’s no one to help
that isn’t already infirmed

               ~~~

Today I’m downtown in the coolness
of the greasy spoon Pandemonium
playing chess with the assistant chef
Henry who’s way better than the last 
time we played. I know 
he’s going to beat my ass,
but I make him sweat it out to the end.
i think of Mark and how surprised
he’d be that I’ve gotten so old
that I’m thrilled to lose to this grasshopper