The State of Play
It’s easy enough to imagine
myself, now, when I’m feeling
generally healthy, generally
fashionable, generally
on top of things, as I say,
to imagine myself as being
in a state of perpetual youth.
Truly, I feel that way.
Like I’m eighteen and in no way
decaying.
Ascendant, if anything.
Until… until… until…
I do that thing to my back
just reaching for the cat
or I forget a word that I know
I know, something like that.
or I don’t recover as fast
as I should from the heavy meal,
the second glass, or staying up
an hour past my habitual
eight o’clock.
Or when I wipe away
the glaze of steam from
my morning mirror
and uncover the gray,
the gray, the gray, the gray.
My very own Dorian Gray.
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