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I'm not as sharp as I used to be.

I'm getting old, I miss things I know all too well are long gone.

Paper straws. I miss paper straws. They make 'em, but not the way they used to. I remember a paper straw that fell apart as soon as it saw a Fresca.

I miss drive-ins, and everything that came with them. I miss the Flavos Shrimp Rolls and I miss those stupid ads.

I miss the announcer guy who said, “Snack bah open anudder fitteen minutes after dat it's clost for da evenin' tank you."

Pokies, put Pokies on the list. No one remembers Pokies. Pokies were a M&M knock-off before we knew what “knock-off” meant.

I miss waiting for a song on the radio, I miss the days when a Scorcese film was a sure bet.

I miss Huntz Hall, and Herschell Gordon Lewis.

I miss my pride.

I miss the razor's edge.

And my first lunchbox even though the thermos leaked. 

I miss the dried pufferfish I bought on a trip to Florida.

I don't miss being fragile.

I do not miss the feeling I might shatter.

That time is far behind me, in the rear view, so to speak. 

The things I miss are gone without a care.

Maybe I'm not as sharp as I used to be.

But that pufferfish must be around here somewhere.

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