Saturday, May 21, 2016

At Sixty-Five

Today two presences,
voluminously robed,
arrived inside me
to announce
that they had probed
the thing I am

and now had come
to rid my hard-drive
of its logjam (common,
they explained,
when one attained
the age of sixty-five):

thereby unmasking me
from me so I might see
the single answer
to the largest question
I had not known
I was asking.

 “There’s one thing
that can save,”
they said, their tone
appropriately grave.
“Be brave – go out
and badly misbehave.”


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