old age
horrifies me.
i try to
believe
that it comes
with a
serene grace,
but then i see:
hair from every pore,
skin discolored,
walks with limps,
slow, unsure movements.
is it possible
to survive
happily
being so
decrepit?
even more so
than now?
the question
and image
haunt me.
perhaps
i too
will share
the fate of
jeremiah de saint-amour
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