it's a long road to talk about aging
until there is no breath to talk anymore, and
the lungs swell and burn, the legs pumping up
a dirt road called Poor Man Road.
the tires slips on loose gravel, a near
fall averted by quick reflexes, a smile
that erases wrinkles, a wink, the shouted answer
to "I see the top" is a strong "I'm on my way,
no stopping now!", what age was she
talking about, we're not sure anymore
and it's not because we don't remember
anymore.
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