• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 04
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I am well past three score and ten
but not yet old.

Do not lose patience so fast
when I am slow to grasp your technology –
could you thread a 60s projector
or double-declutch a car?
If all bakeries closed tomorrow
could you make bread?

My brain has produced a trillion thoughts
and some are worth sharing,
so do not roll your eyes
or dismiss my words with a shrug.

My hair is grey
and my joints creak,
but I still have a lot of living to do.

I will know when it’s time.
Before I begin to drool
and need my bum wiped
as I wiped yours,
I shall walk out into the snow –
far out where Death will find me first –
but to spare you weeks of anguish
I shall wear my purple hat.