Thursday, July 8, 2010

Old Lungs

You hang wafer thin crinkled,

flexing and stretching

with turbulence.

A post it note on my carotid

fluorescent yellow

reminding me to settle down

not forget my spare

key, spare life,

spare tire.

Reminding me of the dozens of things I am

bound to forget

while in the company

of breath.

Like reading the road map

on the bottom of my shoe--

old, white, oxfords.

Or changing the lightbulb

flickering in the ceiling,

a parchment paper man

nearing old age.

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