Serving House: A Journal of Literary Arts
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SHJ Issue 17
Fall 2017

Internal Monologue

by Michael Estabrook

I see these bent misshapen old men
with stooped
shoulders hobbling
along on canes and walkers
and I get angry.
Really? That’s not fair.
All of them aren’t bent
because they’ve neglected
their health and they’re stupid.
Some have legitimate problems.
I don’t care.
I’m guessing you are angry because
you do not want to end up like them.
I don’t care. I hate them.


—Previously published in SubtleTea (July-December 2017 edition); appears here with poet’s permission

SHJ Issue 17
Fall 2017

Michael Estabrook

is retired. With no more useless meetings under florescent lights in stuffy windowless rooms, he’s able instead to focus on making better poems when he’s not, of course, endeavoring to satisfy his wife’s legendary Honey-Do List. His latest collection of poems is Bouncy House, edited by Larry Fagin (Green Zone Editions, 2016).

“...we have been born here to witness and celebrate. We wonder at our purpose for living. Our purpose
is to perceive the fantastic. Why have a universe if there is no audience?” — Ray Bradbury