As old age encroaches upon my lifestyle,
it must be my lifestyle that is to blame.
Tumors and cancers are my fault,
since I have smoked mega-packs, gorged box-cars of pan-fried bacon,
treated fruits and vegetables as traif
to be cast into the outer trashcans.
And if I have never smoked? avoided nitrites
like the tidings of evangelists?
Crunched acres of celery, tomatoes,
bran and citrus fruits
as eagerly as I walked breeze-filled miles composing poetry?
It must still be my own fault,
since I drank the waters, breathed the air,
and worked at the jobs
of modern America.
I could have avoided such risk,
escaped defilement
huddling
beneath the snows of Antarctica,
breathing air free of the fruits
of production for profit,
enjoyed the sunlit brilliance
of an ozone-free sky.
