the wisdom gained

is that it all is behind you

you'll never have a choice again

can't won't moments gone past away

self evident factual actual

breaking through conspicuous

sagging thin skin blue veins pulsing

for everyone to see every move you make

your dying body a drag

on your thoughts gravity pulls

downward consistent persistent &

your mood cannot help but follow

"Fuck sake, you're contaminating the scene."

The old man doesn't turn his head towards the uniform who chided him. He calmly puffs his Winston, squints into the rising sun, and silently counts to ten.

"Hey. Detective," the cop continues, "If you're gonna smoke, do it on the other side of the yellow tape."

He made it to five before his temper flared along with the cherry on the end of his Winston. Without moving anything other than his arm, he flicks the half-smoked cigarette at the mouthy sergeant's chest.

"Hey! FUCK!"

"It's my scene, shitstain. Go play in traffic."

A younger detective arrives carrying two to-go cups of coffee. He swiftly steps between the two men. "Hey, hey, easy, sarge. Here. Brought you a fivebucks. Hops you like cream and sugar."

Brushing ash off his uniform shirt, the sergeant grudgingly takes the offered cup. Grumbling, he walks to his cruiser parked at the end of the alley and climbs in.

"Chrissakes, kid. That was my coffee."

"Yeah, well. You shoulda thought of that before you tried to pick a fight with the night shift lead. He's been on since midnight and this was a shit detail."

"Fucker had the stones to tell me I'm contaminating the scene."

The handsome younger, larger man raises an eyebrow.

"Fuck. Not you, too."

"I mean, cmon man. Can't you stop smoking for an hour?"

"Why? I already know what happened and who did it."

"How the hell can you say that? You just got here."

"I've been here about ten minutes."

White jumpsuited technicians walk past the two detectives, carrying large kits that look like extremely oversized tackleboxes.

"So you've solved it, have you?"

The old man winks, sniffs, and reaches into his pocket for a new smoke.

"Not another one. Just wait until we get back to the car, wouldya?"

Grizzled, grumpy, and missing his coffee, the lead detective sniffs the white paper like it's a handrolled Cuban.

"I can't believe you gave that dick my coffee. I gave you a twenty, and don't think I aint noticed you kept the change."

"Yeah, I did, because fuck you. You're an old prick this morning."

"I'm an old dick every morning, kid."

"You don't lie."

"Shit. I lie like a dog, buddy." He laughs at the joke that only he gets, and his teeth seem just a little too sharp in the dawn's light.

"So you don't know whodunnit?" The new detective glances over at the uncovered body of a twenty-something woman in the alley. Non-valuable insides of her purse lie strewn on the blacktop along parts and pieces of her that never should have been outside. He shudders in the heat that has slowly risen along with the sun.

Black flies swarm in contrast with white Tyvek-clad techs. They photograph, catalog, scrape, and collect. "Oh, guys, ignore the butt still smoldering there where Sergeant Fucknuts was standing."

The junior partner waits patiently, sipping his latte.

"You're fuckin with me, aren't you, kid? I can smell that brew. Goddamn."

"Yep. You should apologize to the sarge when we leave."

"You know I'm gonna make you take me to a Starbie's drive through, right?"

"It's your money, boss."

Sighing, a man too old to fight but too stubborn to be beaten turns to leave.

"Whoa, boss, where you goin?"

"We're done here, kid. Let's go get the bastard who did this."

"How do you know who it is?"

"Because I've arrested the motherfucker before." The old detective reaches for his lighter, inhales sweet relief from questions he doesn't want to answer, and heads back to the car.

Some things are possible to explain, but impossible to believe.

It’s a matter of proper place

and timing

carrying on with today’s buying

no breaks nor whining

build wealth for piling

higher and higher

on our family’s dining

then we invite the neighbors

to ogle and chime in

witness to how grand our living

yet our souls go hungry

this tradition is our suffering

but never to disown it

for gramps may be grumpy

he is no sage, it‘s just his age

yet this new kid is too shiny

still on his learner‘s permit

he can’t drive us round the block

Frail, scalp exposed

Confused, with a fire in her eye

Lets get out of here

A final embrace before joining again shortly

The hug around her dying husband

Could never be as tight as the cancer in her brain

Shes saying goodbye, to her world

Death waving goodbye to death

Two lives empty down separate drains

A cruel race

Because hospital beds have wheels

They shared this

The final stage of a marriage

The terminal ache of her core

Exploded by the grief

The shards continue to irritate

The depth of her sickness

Parallels her loss

Guardrails pointing to the end

As you get older, you don’t get wiser. You get irritable. My CliffNotes summary to this prompt is: Yup. The expanded version for those who want to be able to answer the extra credit questions is as follows.

Packing on the years guarantees you’ll be wiser. Aging means you’ll be exposed to a variety of topics and opinions. Many are profound enough to alter your thinking by unveiling different perspectives while some comprise the “SMH” category, i.e. Flat Earthers (who, ironically, have believers all across the globe). Maturing presents opportunities to shrink the expanse of your ignorance. That’s what growth is all about.

Over time, you’ll gain a better grasp of life’s intricacies which can be used to your advantage. That garners empowerment. The downside to this is that with great power comes great responsibility. And with great responsibility comes a diminishing tolerance for stupidity. Accept that this is part of the process. Opting out isn’t feasible.

A waning tolerance bridges old age “wiser” with old age “irritated.” I found the phrase: “I can explain it to you, but I can’t make you understand it,” helps lower my blood pressure when interacting with those who skipped the seminar on life’s intricacies to focus on the latest TikTok challenges posted by social media influencers.

Besides the formerly non-existent aches resulting from standing up (or sitting down or kneeling, walking, lifting, bending, opening jars, brushing my teeth, buttering toast) that causes irritability, there’s the frustration of watching adolescents make mistakes that could be averted if they asked for advice first. Especially when these mistakes are ones I made when I didn’t seek or listen to opinions from adults who cared about me when my brain was as malleable as Silly Putty.

Irritability also rises from the perspective that we had it easier or harder than the current generation. It was better back in our day. It was worse back in our day. That’s a source of irritation we can eliminate though. It’s a wrong comparison to make because without time travel, you’ll never see how a kid from 2025 would do back then or how we would do as a kid now. Still, it’s annoying listening to the plight of a teenager anguishing over the fact the internet connection is slow.

There is an obvious, unifying topic we can all agree on - The music from now can’t hold a candle to the music from the 70’s. Would you rather listen to Cardi B’s “W.A.P.” or Linda Ronstadt’s “Long, Long Time?” Bad Bunny or Bad Company? I know, these are real Sophie’s choices. Don’t rush, take as long as you need to think about your answer.

So, with pride I wear wisdom on one sleeve, irritability on the other. I appreciate the impact time has made on me to earn these distinctions. My hope for the youth of today is that they’ll live long enough to join me in the Old Farts Club. It’ll be nice to compare notes.

Where did I put my friggen teeth?

Maybe it's in the cushions of the couch.

What the heck is that?

Licorice!

Now how am I suppose to enjoy that!

Where did I have them last?!

Why am I asking myself that question?!

I'm such a senile hippocrate!

I was biting on some corn on the cob.

Which i threw in the garbage!!

Shit it's Friday!

The garbage went out yesterday!

It's strange,when I lose something,I tend to find something more important.

And I forget what I'm looking for.

Is that old age?!

Or,am I actually getting wiser.

To the fact I'm losing my memory!

Might as well suck on this piece of licorice for a while!

Phone rings.

Hello!

What!

That's amazing how did you know that?!

Is this 675-8796!

What kind of question is that?

Now that guy really got a problem with his memory!

He just dialed my friggin number,and now he can't remember it!

My licorice!!

Where was i last!

Oh yeah,the licorice taste so bad,I threw it in the trash!

I think i feel it!

Wait,what's that next to it

My teeth!!

See i told ya.

Lose something,find something more important!

Now,I can really enjoy that piece of licorice!