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Sometimes recalling observations eerily feels like one's own reality waiting in the wings. Remembering my father in the rest home shaving reminds me to update my mental outlook once again.
Old has time to think
Needs rail-anchors in the bath tub
Where floating takes on child-like fantasy
Then rescinding stolen pleasure
With the feather-filled couch
So nice to sink into
So painful to rise out of
Yesterday's love forgetting
Today's body remembering
Atop a mountain peak
Sheltering bodies arched
Pebbles hiding beneath ground cloth
Affections forever indented in knee-cap memory
Now but mementos
Afloat within gathering clouds
Miserable mirror on the wall
Who's most feisty of them all
Old once knew young
The now who knew itself then
Beyond any fear
Above any retreat
Now stares vacantly
At withered skin
Where trophy scars once glittered
Their scar tissue aglow
Now upstaged by a monstrous bruise
Fucking table corner
Leaped out from nowhere
Look at this
I know reflection's lookin' at me
Irony sends a smile
Face smiles back
A gloating embrace of another kind
Without gentle touch
Without a kiss so missed
As time races forward
Readying another chance embrace
Of course they do
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|Reviewed by Asa Seeley
|i don't know what is worse; the reflections in destiny's mirror that we don't want to face or, not having any reflections. thanks for sharing.
|Reviewed by Amor Sabor
|This is almost too painful to read as it applies so well to myself, as the reader, not wanting to let go of dear faint youth but watching helplessly as it eludes me. Excellent piece of work.|
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
|Ah, buddy, you're singing my song. I've a birthday coming up early next week. Birthday's never used to bother me. The fifties, sixties, but the day I turned seventy, I said to myself, damn, Jer, people die when they reach seventy. I'm still hanging on, but I see little signs almost daily that my physical and mental capacity is going into the shitter.
P.S.: I have a secret plan. Ssssssh . . .