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In a station of the subway|
I passed by an apparition
of my younger self, dressed sharp
in a Stetson fedora, brim up, my same auburn beard
and confident stride toward tomorrow
with his beautiful wife in her fanciest at his side.
I walked ahead of them
dwelling on dark thoughts
after my doctor’s recent auguring
of a prostate that felt “a little abnormal”
and the blood work results days away.
That is a long time not to think about
forever or cancer or what would be unfinished.
I lingered there between my Spring and Fall
until the doctor’s call prescribed a breath of relief.
And in that exhalation was the exhilaration
of being exactly where I always need to be.