Most Fortily
Most Fortily
Ticking through another year,
Softly pausing
here
To recollect, to pause again,
Nestling
bravely near
What’s next.
My life as text, thusly written,
Lucky,
love-bitten,
Reading back from my first fifty,
Nipped:
kitten smitten:
Sex
vexed.
Bouts-abouting sweet-nostalgia,
Cursed-melancholia,
Re-what-abouting history:
Selecting
amnesia:
Hex-flexed.
Most fortily.
Pausing: Letting go of ghosts: parents, siblings
Traded
for spirits:
Butterflies and cardinals and dragonflies:
No
longer haunted; visited instead.
Pausing: Letting go of self-hurt: wrongs and slights
Traded
for re-do’s:
Penance, forgivenesses and charities.
No
longer hunted: sought again instead.
Pausing: Letting go of forties: Not. Quite. Yet.
Yet-traded,
tax free:
Deferring and Accruing and Investing.
No
longer burdened: annuitized.
Recording over cassettes taped.
Reburning CDs:
Replacing analog with digital,
An all persistent memory that
Never
dies,
Often
cries,
Will
undoubtedly outsize
The
stuck-in-earning perfect prize.
Pausing here, lingering,
Mashed
up: tinkering
Reconstructing stories:
Pre-fictioneering
Pressing
play
Pressing
record—the red button—
Together
Tech-spec’d.
Most fortily
Near, hyphened, fiftily
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