Whatever Crutch Keeps You Walking

The old man goes further into night
down the same roads he always has
only slower.
The longer he walks
the less he knows why.
He forgot where he was going
a long time ago.
He has nowhere to go
and it's taken forever
to get there.

Life's been picking him over for 80 years
and he's left stranded
with no eyes,
no legs and no hair.
His body is dismantling itself
for shipment to the sky.
There's still some left though.
He isn't air yet
though his evaporated mind
is forgetting how to rain.
At first it's frightening
not recognizing the face
with the silver hair or
being able to remember the way
it looked before it crinkled up
like trash, but then life becomes
like a melody you've forgotten
the words to;
the shapes losing focus,
pink and green and blue,
are strangely pleasing.

He watches as a boy
he once knew
rises from all fours to retrieve
with the plant of his foot
every step
his own bones
are too brittle to take
and slowly
beneath the hum
of some 80 odd years
he hears his heart
beating
like a song
he used to sing
when he was a boy
before he had other
things to listen to.