it's getting dark

i still have
a rotary phone,
black, on the kitchen
wall with a twenty
foot twisty cord.
the milkman brings
me milk. the mail
man brings me
life magazine.
i write checks
and put a stamp on
the envelope
to pay my bills.
i defrost my icebox
with a butter knife.
i wind up my timex
watch and put it up
to my hear to hear
it ticking.
i have a record
player and a transistor
radio, a black
and white zenith
tv with rabbit ears
that sits on
a dinner tray
in front of the coffee
table. i spoon
instant coffee
into hot water.
i remember jfk,
ike and elvis,
paul and john, frank
and sammy.
marilyn and raquel.
micky mantle
and johnny u.
i yell out the window
and tell the kids
to get off
my lawn after i pushed
the mower across it,
but then go out into
the street to throw
the ball around
with them. it's
getting dark, but
it's not dark yet.