Gaming the Third Rail


One’s carefree 20's say: “flirt with it.”
40's say; “not on my watch.”
60's say: “made it across the tracks.”
Finally, life says: “Ollie, ollie, oxen free!”

Off the full-retiree goes…

Golf course by day.
Country club by night.

Off the semi-retiree goes...

Part time work by day.
TV at night.

And common to most seniors,
third rail fear continues non-stop,
with its ever-ubiquitous warnings.
never flirting with risk,
never assumes immunity,
never considering chance without assured success.

There are, however, the others
knowing not retirement,
still willing to explore through unlocked doors,
stroll a city’s unbeaten paths at night,
view calculated risk as a senility-deterrent.

Like a subway schedule,
mobility might slow to less movement after sundown,
often with fewer start and stop options,
but relieved of the anxious rush hours,
inviting that piece of time that allows more relaxed movement
like exploring car to car,
platform to platform,
late nights to early mornings,
where greeting a new day means
another yesterday has been challenged and archived.

Such are these intrepid few still gaming Life’s third rail,
whose venturesome identity remains an option,
an awareness that self-assured motion
is but electric energy surging forward to the next pause,
still allowing sparks and verve to remain the unwavering motivation
for mischievous diehards.