Friday, August 12, 2011
Day 346
3:17 pm; 12:27 am
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Fred
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Staring into the face of a still-fiery, but very old man
is like looking at an alarm clock that is set for some
given amount of time, expected to catch us off guard
Fred is a still-walking explosion of story, 96 years old
and ready at every moment to tell it to us straight, give us
young ones some perspective on our unwarranted yawns
At times, I want to shake him gently by his shoulders
back into his thirties, just to keep him around much longer
for us to catch every drop of wisdom to fall from his lips
At times, I see well past my thirties, into the ground, far
underneath what has become a silent earth, I don’t know
what to make of the noise, this time I feel myself shake
Fred’s hand pulls me back to the present, tells me to wake,
to note the sound is when time is wasted and becomes
noise, when we blink and are suddenly to old to remember
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tkk
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