-living in state-

I've considered running down the road, the road

laying parallel to the Taunton River encouraged

by those who do whenever spring comes around.

I'm not nearly as young as they who run down the road.

It’s that time, that closing stanza when even the most

fundamental of things require new considerations.

I might collapse if I run down the road.

I’m counseled against shoveling snow

via public service announcements.

It won't alarm anyone if I start smoking cigarettes,

but they'll yell at the kids.

I've lost confidence while waiting on the bench

for my eye examination at the DMV— and

of the eggs I’m frying this morning,

they might be the last fried eggs of my life,

crackling and popping in their bed of extra virgin olive oil.

so I find myself thinking of writing the final poem

within the next few days while I’m still around to do it,
understanding the necessity of having to be particularly

disciplined at sticking the ending,–– 

something better suited to the already dead.