“FORGET MOVING FORWARD”

I can't remember
the stroller I rode in
when I was too small
to walk up
the same hills I've hiked
ever since I can remember.

On the other end of life,
senility is sitting
in the waiting wheelchair.

It is a perfect system
for those like me
who don't like being
pushed.

narrative poem written on 09-05-2013 by: on mattkane.com
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