Alphabet Soup

In response to a blog request from my dear friend and extraordinary poet, Drew Myron, here is my very small offering located in her comments section :

What do you want? My Dan asks.

An Answer, I say, or at least another Aperitif.

Bananas for your Blood

Count, maybe. I’ll take that.

See? I’m Dusting things

For your lungs to breathe Easy.

Your Energy is low, I notice.

Frightened? Yes.

I’m still Gathering Hints Into Jewels

Of why this happened.


Cancer? Lung cancer?

Not even Maybe.

Not possible. Non smokers.

Not. Not. Not.

Oh, Oh, okay, Perhaps that one year

In your mid-teens, when

Performance equaled Quality,

And Risk equaled Sexiness.

Turn to now. Unwind. Unwind.

One small year inhaled.

Vexed? Of course, there’s no answer all these years later.

Why? Don’t ask, don’t Wonder.

X-Rays will say all gone, and

You will keep on, and you will become old.

Why? We will never know.

But, when we are old, and if I go first,

I promise to greet you,

In niche 22 at St. Mary’s Cemetery, next to

The statue of St. Francis of Xavier.

That is, of course, if I leave

This Zenith first. If you are first, however …

All bets are off.

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