What can I do as an old man
tucked away in a high-rise
that offers care to folks with white hair
and to those with none
and to those in various stages in between?

I can complain – but I complain in vain
for the world doesn’t move as I wish it to.
Being one whose DNA bristles with impatience
I’d do better to shut my mouth
and wait calmly for the inevitable.

But maybe I can’t!

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