It's more about me....edit 1.0 todd

[Richard]

Hey tectak,
This is a pretty strong poem, so it's hard to find a whole lot to critique. However, I will give it a try:

edit 1.0

When we stopped talking about our kids we grew up a whole lot; -This is a strong first line. It caught my attention as the reader, and made me want to see what this poem was all about.
about then was when we started reminiscing...not easy when you can't recall. -I like the second half of this line. It has a double purpose; it's it sets up the poem's premise, but also alludes the to the fact that the speaker is elderly.
Mostly I forget about me , I guess because I never saw myself self back then;
that’s when you value old friends. They remember more about you than you do.
‘Course, it’s a two-way thing… like when Johnny fell off the bowling alley roof… -This is just for my own curiosity, but what does it say about the speaker's friendship with Johnny/Bob when this is what they remember about them the most?
I can see him white as milk. He had a bad cut right in his gut.
Circular. Landed on a piece of pipe. Fell twenty feet. Could have killed himself.
Yeah. We all remembered that... except Johnny. Or  was it Bob? -The fact that Bob didn't remember the fall made me think he was drunk. Am I right?
Bob died last year…but yep, I think it was Bob…nobody argues anymore. -I feel like the focus of the poem changes here from friends being the only ones who know someone's true self to time/death. Was this shift intentional?
 
Yeah…Bob died last year. He had it coming, we all saw that. It was in his face. -This is such a sad line. We often see death approaching through someone's face.
His face changed and we all knew. Kind of sad-eyed, laughed  too late at jokes…
only a second or so, but it was a sign. You know, like a plant in a pot -This plant metaphor is just wonderful. You use it well throughout the poem.
when it’s losing  strength and you don’t know why. You can feed it, give it water,
you can talk to it…hell, we talked to Bob and made sure he drank enough… -Again, when it says "he drank enough", this made me think he was drinking alcohol for some reason.
but the edges just turned brown anyways. He died last year. They said it was…
what was it…just old age? How the hell does that kill a man? I mean, we’re all old. -I love how old age sounds like a condition/disease. I feel like this idea deserves its own poem.
I asked Dan if he knew any more than we did. Dan said he'd been a good neighbour
but he'd gotten angry a lot of the time, Bob that is. Yep…he was angry a lot. -Again, Bob's anger issues and the other stuff I've mention creates the impression on me that he was an alcoholic. Am I right?
 
We’re talking about anger and age and memory…it’s what we do these days. -This is such a depressing line. I love it.
Sometimes I think that I’m looking a little brown around the edges and I get angry;
inside, I mean…you get angry inside and that’s what makes your leaves droop. -I love how he is getting angry about aging, but that is just making him age worse.
We tell each other we’re fine, yep…I’m good…how about you? Been anywhere? -I like how they try to change the subject away from death. It is such a human thing to do.
I can see it, though; and if I can see it in them they sure as hell can see it in me.
It’s not the same as a tree, you know, in Autumn, when you expect it. -I love how how the speaker can accept the passage of time (Autumn), but is surprised at aging. Again, this is such a human thing to do.
When Dan sits down at my table and sighs, I look at him and he is no tree… -It is really impressive how much mileage you got out of the plant imagery/metaphor in this poem. Nice job
the death signs are there…like a plant that’s been poisoned at the roots. -What are the death signs? I feel like this could be explored more.
I don’t know if I will be next. I can ask a friend for an opinion. They know more than I do 
...about me. -I find this ending very sad. The speaker is so ignorant about himself, that he needs his friends to confirm that he is old and dying. My question is were you trying to express the message of how important one's friends are in their life, or were you sending a message about how shallow people can be when it comes to seeing them-selves for what they truly are?   
 
tectak 2017
original

When we stopped talking about our kids we grew up a whole lot.
Thing is, we started reminiscing instead…it was easier when you  weren’t sure.
You forget your own  things, mostly because you never see yourself in your past;
that’s when you value old friends. They remember more about you than you do.
‘Course, it’s a two-way thing… like when Johnny fell off the bowling alley roof…
I can see him as clear as day. He had a bad cut right in his gut.
Circular. Landed on a piece of pipe. Fell twenty feet. Could have killed him
Yeah. We all remembered that... but whoa, was it Johnny or  was it Bob?
Bob died last year…but yep, I think it was Bob…who’s arguing?
 
Yeah…Bob died last year. He had it coming, we all said that. It was his face.
His face changed and we all knew. Kind of sad-eyed, laughed  too late at jokes…
only a second or so, but it was a sign. You know, like a plant in a pot
when it’s losing  strength and you don’t know why. You can feed it, give it water,
you can talk to it…hell, we talked to Bob and made sure he drank enough…
but the edges just turned brown anyways. He died last year. They said it was…
they said it was…just old age. How does that kill a man? I mean, we’re old , too.
I asked Dan if he knew any more than we did. Dan said he'd been a good neighbour
but he'd gotten angry a lot of the time, Bob that is. Yep…he was angry a lot.
 
We’re talking about anger and age and memory…it’s what we do these days.
Sometimes I feel that I’m getting a little brown around the edges…I get angry.
Inside, I mean…you get angry inside and that’s what makes your leaves droop.
We all tell each other we’re fine, yep…I’m good…how about you? Been anywhere?
I can see it, though; and if I can see it in them they sure as hell can see it in me.
It’s not the same as a tree, you know, in Autumn, when you expect it.
When Harry sits down at my table and sighs, I look at him and he is no tree…
the death signs are there…like a plant that’s been poisoned at the roots.
I don’t know if I will be next. I can ask a friend for an opinion. They know more than I do
...about me.    
 
tectak 2017

Overall, this is a wonderful poem, and I enjoyed having the opportunity to critique it.

Cheers,
Richard