The Ageist Elderly Man with no Arms in the Parked Car

[Ganman]

I'm getting ready to submit some poems, and I'm on the fence about this one:

The Ageist Elderly Man with No Arms in the Parked Car

My author abandoned me,
an armless old man trapped
in a parked car
on a winter morning.

He left me to stew
in his frozen Sedan
while he searched the store
for Swedish meatballs.

I was written with no personality,
flat, no redeeming character traits,
and I can only solicit help
by yelling at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food,
pregnant at thirteen.

The girls dress like prostitutes,
showing leg and midriff alike,
waving hello with their cleavage.
Women in my day were refined.

The boys lack a shred of respect
for an elderly gentleman like me.
They make jokes at my expense,
mocking my age, downplaying my experience.

I didn’t witness the wheel’s creation.
I didn’t bring fire down from Olympus.
I never hunted a dinosaur,
and I never met President Jackson.

They’re throwing gravel at my window now,
spitting at me through the glass,
displaying their hindquarters.
I think the author wrote them flat too.

I don’t deserve this.
I was a war hero in Vietnam.
I drew out the enemy by burning down huts.
I killed twenty-three men with one fist.

You would think that means something,
but society doesn’t seem to think so.
I wonder when he’s coming back with those meatballs.
I really hate children.

My author abandoned me,
an elderly man with no arms,
in a parked car.

He forgot to give me personality.
I’m flat, and all I do to find help
is yell at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food.

They throw rocks at the window,
spit at me through the glass.
I think he wrote them flat too.

He’s in the store, buying meatballs.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
They can’t be that hard to find.

They’re right next to the rolls,
I told him – aisle 13, frozen foods.
I really hate children.