We started with 163 folks in ’74
but we’re down to thirty-two now.
And seven of those are over ninety
while eight are honorary members
which is a fancy way of saying
they don’t pay any dues.
It’s like that, though, in this place
where the young all leave
as soon as they can and us old people
hang on here until we die.
Plus, there’s no fresh blood moving in.
Hasn’t been for years.
* poem, in its entirety, is available in the printed version of the current issue
Bio:
Richard Luftig is a professor emeritus of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio who now resides in California. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals in Canada, the United States, Europe, Asia, and Australia, and his poetry collection A Grammar for Snow has been published by Unsolicited Press.