Monthly Archives: February 2013

How Does Mr. Bacon Turn Thirty-Five?

How does Mr. Bacon turn thirty-five?
Does he scrunch way down under the covers and cry?
Does he grumble and whimper and sigh “Woe is me!”
Does he abandon all hope? Does he sit down to pee??

How does Mr. Bacon leave thirty-four?
Does he roll out of bed and collapse on the floor?
Does he stare at the mirror, gazing into old eyes
Does he mutter “This can’t be… am I thirty-five?!

Does he look at his schedule and say “No damn way,
“It’s too cold to run on my special day!
“It’s freezing outside, twenty-seven degrees
“And out of the west, a stiff, gale-force breeze!”

Does he stay in at lunch and eat at his desk?
Does he mope idly today and label it “rest”?
Does he eat cake all day and drink beer all night?
(That sounds fabulous, in fact; I think I just might.)

No, Mr. Bacon does not.

Mr. Bacon stands handsomely tall and decides
To smile and greet his new age group with pride
“It’s a wonderful day! I feel so alive!
“It’s cold and I’m old, but I look twenty-five!”

Most importantly, though, he goes out for a run
Lunchtime’s not for eating, it’s for getting it done
He considers the notion of thirty-five K
But six, maybe seven, is all for today.

He darts from the office, cuts across some guy’s lawn
Turns onto the trail, keeps an eye out for John
When he turns to the west, the run really begins
Because that’s when he faces the brunt of the wind

Two bundled-up walkers approach and, of course
Eye Bacon and gape at his short sleeves and shorts
“It’s so cold out,” they tell him, “you’re going to freeze!”
But Bacon just winks and chews bark off a tree.

How does Mr. Bacon turn thirty-five?
He gets out in the cold underneath a huge sky
And during seven at lunch on the trail, all alone
He gets mega-bored, so he makes up a poem.

In the style of Jane Yolen