taking the trash out in my boxer shorts

there's

so much good in growing old.

the fact

that i can pretty much

say whatever

is on my mind, and not

worry about hurting

someone's feelings

is one.

and i'm not bothered

by why they say

in return.

i can hang up the phone,

block, delete

and move on, like Clint

in an old time

western movie.

ride off into the sunset

to greener and happier land.

i shrug at the marching masses,

leave me

out of your crazy woke

madness, please.

and even as i take

the trash out

for tomorrows pick up,

i don't give a damn that

i'm in my boxer shorts

and black socks.

if it bothers you so much,

turn your head, 

and stop looking out

your window,

with your two cats in hand.