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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 70


OLD AGE wakes up one day
cups totter at the edge of tables
crumbs gather like dust on windowsills
a moment ago is already forgotten of all it contained
it was my whole world, a word
[from one minute to the next, another universe]
of visitations in dreams
of friends who have long passed in silence
where did they go looks back as overheard
each new moment filled with every memory you ever had

i miss the time that went
i mourn the time that came, afraid it will not last
i miss the long road unfolding its weary legs
i miss the cool nights and windy jazz
i miss the subways and side streets i walked cruising
i am still there [for a moment bathed] suffused in subdued light
i miss the warm bed and kiss goodnight
the sweetness rubbed in olive oil
of subtle emotions
of sitting on a bench eating a sandwich

you're getting morbid she says as i stir my coffee
with a pin

  E.L.Freifeld: 2015