You can’t keep going
forever. At some point
you fall over and wail
from your new place
on the ground.
At some point
it becomes too much,
this aging. This failure
of parts, this damage
regime taking over.
You stare at a picture
of your parents. You understand
how it was for them, how it
is if they are still here.
You Fold your head down
to your knees and do
whatever it is you do
to invoke something
to stop it: prayer,
positive thought,
a hearty scream into your
ailing skin. You swore
you’d be different,
you’re the same; maybe
that’s the worst part.
