SOLO

Now of a certain age,

I have far fewer friends,

but the few are truer.

All that I know seems dated,

myself included.

Prospects

of immortality no longer

lure me nor do those honors

seemingly awarded more

for notoriety than worth.

I call

the current primacy of film

over books a vote for recognition

over understanding.

I hear

no poetry in oratory.

For me

the trend of certain males

to stay unbarbered and unshaven

leaves hidden their naked faces.

Though some extol tattoos

as body art, I see no more

than ink injected for exhibit‒

skin-shows.

When mocked, I feel

no need for self-defense unless

provoked.

Before death corners me,

I say my only options are

to keep on doing what I do

as long as possible and leave

at least and last a good name.

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