The person with everything was sitting in air conditioning in his reclining chair.
In his lap is a plate of food heated by a microwave and nuked with flair.
Jell curl made his hair stand on end, his clothes cleaned by the washer and then dried,
He was in pretty good condition by the wave of exercise and a diet that avoided fried.
He worked forty hours a week in a desk job of answering phones and going to lunch,
He ate well with food from the deli and pizza by the slice, he never had a hunch.
That deep in his stomach was an ulcer from the grease, a burning sensation,
He did notice on occasion his heart skipped a beat or went into palpitation.
The work load was severe, but he was given help by his firm,
He had an ex but he his relationship with her was on a good term.
Children she raised and he payed her support and got visitation rights,
Gone was the constant irritation of so many abusive fights.
The modern man in his high days of wine and roses,
The man who lived with the elite poses.
He was just reaching fifty and money and power in his reach,
His skin was soft by massages and creams applied that smelled like peach.
His exercise man came over every other day,
His fast car was driven by him in the most aggressive way.
The world was his oyster and he had it with butter,
He changed girl friends frequently and he had his favorite putter.
On the greens he played the grueling eight,
For him it was a constant Sunday date,
But the heart attack occurred as he put in a fifty-foot putt,
He fell over and fell on the ball, a life now cut short from the routine rut.