We are all dying to know what is going
to happen when we’re dead. Even if we pretend
we’re not, we are. Just look at all of us
Growing older. Not one turning back
in her bones, not one hair going from gray
to black by itself. The body seems bent
On decline. The brain gradually loses
interest in the things of this world.
We’ve all seen the truly ancient ones
Waiting in their chairs at the last train stop.
The conductor is nodding to them, and
they are allowed to go on, beyond the station.
They salute us with their lucky tickets.
They look so happy to be on their way;
we almost grow younger just watching them.
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