Old Man Secrets Poem by Patti Masterman

In the heat, old smells rise up to assault again.
In the old house, I could smell old wallpaper
Buried under layers of yellowed paint,
Old wood floors, the varnish and glue mingling
With the dust from old occupant's possessions
Sparring with those of the most recent inhabitants,
A dry amalgamation
Mixed with old cat poop and old man's pee,
Moldered curtains and dusty cobwebs.

The old man often stood and peed out of doors;
Somewhere in his brain, bathrooms must have got mixed in
With the outdoors, all mixed up in the worm-eaten confines
Of his belatedly scanned and well-diagnosed brain.

Outhouses used to be outside, but now there was
Modern plumbing; so what was a man to do?
If he still wanted to go outside to urinate,
But was hindered by walls and fumbly door latches;
Why, when a man ran out of breath so soon?

He stood and peed at the door, fully confident
He was not actually breaking any rules of society.
And now the pee tattles on him, years later,
And he has passed on into old man oblivion,
But the brain secret he kept all alone-
Successfully- until he was quite gone.