Lucky me, to live so long,
travel wide, career hop, on
and on. Now that’s a life.
The best was great.
Ok but not the same as yesterday.
The play of course is ending. But that’s not it.
For sure
I mourn the tireless energy that’s gone,
my flambeau Mardi Gras.

What makes me wince, not body’s sag
so much, it’s desire. Keeps cropping up.
Hurts inside. I pinch my cheeks to look again,
watch beauty float pass by.

Still what’s the use, to think on this: what was
and is, that’s all:
a far-off thunder rolling through. And running
running, never still, the sky a soaring leap.
A wall of favors spent on being here. The wait
for one you never meet, the you that’s left.