what the hell?
I keep kneeing
the edge of the bedframe
shoulder-bumping doorways
scraping my ankles
on boulders in the garden
as if something in me tries
to grind edges off the world
shortcuts to where I want to go
but why why now round off the
physical for my expectations
to create painful impractical paths?
perhaps it’s my spirit
surfacing for more visits
in these advanced years
demonstrating what life will
be like free of this body
an easy pass through obstacles
and all the blood and bumps
scrapes and bruises?
Just a necessary adjustment
for what’s coming
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