Bruce McGuffin



I had a party late last week.
My birthday. I turned sixty-five.
I’m “classic,” soon-to-be “antique.”
But hey, at least I’m still alive.

My boss is mad. He says that I’m
“Exhibiting an inclination.”
Instead of working overtime
I had my birthday celebration.

Today we had an earnest talk,
In course of which I had to mention
That any time I want, I’ll walk.
I don’t need him. I’ve got a pension.

Some say old age brings lassitude,
I say it’s kiss-my-assitude.


All the U’s have been used
And I’m stuck with this Q.
I’m not feeling amused,
I’ve got X and Z too.
But I do have four I’s
(No I don’t mean my glasses),
And I could take the prize
If my next lay-down passes.
Though I would have preferred
Just a bit more finesse,
It’s a triple-score word
To the left of that S.
It will end the game now,
Well, that is if it sticks.
If there isn’t a row
When I play IIXIZIQS.

Bruce McGuffin’s poetry has appeared in LightLighten Up OnlineThe Asses of Parnassus, and other journals. He divides his time between Lexington, MA, where he works as an engineer in a radio factory, and Antrim, NH, where he writes poetry and avoids being useful.