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Sunday, June 23, 2019

poem - “Where is James? I haven’t seen him lately.”

“Where is James? I haven’t seen him lately.”
He tripped and fell off the curb
Into a thousand foot abyss and went splat
On the perfect granite boulders below.
Splat flat, man. It happens.
He swallowed a sickness into his lungs
And wheezed until the dark angels came
To drag him away again.
The last thing anyone heard
Was some intense coughing up in the sky.
Or maybe the coughing was down below,
Deep inside the earth. One or the other.
There is no staying young.
Either you get old or you die young.
So there is no need to worry
About youth or aging or death.
Just live in this moment, that’s enough.
“I’m young at heart.” That’s denial,
But go ahead, that’s your problem.
James is still glad to be here,
Even if being here takes more effort now.
Aches and pains, sure. Regrets? No.
That’s where James is, goddamn it.

James
20 March 2019
23 June 2019
oktu

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