A round of golf. You carry your own
Bags. A few sets of tennis.
Certainly, it’s warm
Down there. Closer to the
Equator, so what else?
Florida. You’ve got
Gray heads behind every wheel.
Heart problems, cancer of the prostate, you name it.
International banking. That was my
Job. Down there I had nothing to do.
Knew nobody.
Locked up in one of those retirement communities.
Man at the gatehouse, 24 hours, so
No strangers came around. Jesus,
Old
People!
Quite honestly, young man,
Retirement stinks.
So, to make a long story short, I
Threw in the towel.
Unloaded the damn condo, and
Vamoosed back to Providence.
Weather is weather.
X degrees below zero I could do without, but
You can only play so many hands of bridge, then
Zingo! the four walls are closing in.