#2305 - sixteen years

 

2305

7.112

23.iv.26

sixteen years

 

according to my super fund

I have sixteen years

 

it’s not at first obvious

they’re not drawing attention to it

it’s just a flower on the graph

 

time’s brisk!

friends will be dropping like flies

I was relying on them for a funeral

 

I don’t think they want me to notice

it’s a question of calculation, that’s all

 

nothing subjective

 

they take no account of the creature’s habits

nature, of bliss

 

ye know not the hour, nor they

there is no deity does

 

it’s not the me I know they measure

 

why should I worry?

I do

 

sixteen years!

mend bridges, grow another tree

novels, plays, epics to write

have to paint my way out of the maze

spark up

I have a fire to catch

 

it’s not that I had a concrete plan for immortality

it was more in the way of an assumption

lack of a Plan B, you could say

 

corner of the eye thing moves

 

they’re not suggesting religion, health spa

boot camp, meditation

 

next or former lives

 

no midway dark woods

nor letter to post

 

can they even scent my track

see the leaves fall

know this rain

 

and what flower is it?

can you guess?

 

it’s virtual

then let death be

 

I suppose that they ought to know

we bury the treasure here

 

 

 

 

postscript

 

I looked again today

hoping I could grab a graphic

failed

and anyway they’ve changed it

I’ll have to describe it for you

now it’s a heart kind of floating above two open hands

and great news!  they’ve given me a couple of extra years

it’s mysterious … it’s like they’re not superstitious enough to say soul

and anyway there’s no graphic for that

but I see now that those hands are

letting the heart away

and looking again

I suppose the idea is more like that those hands

will catch the falling heart