robert the great poet
you're getting old and
i'm not ready for that
feeling a certain
indicisiveness in your mind
or a hesitation in your voice
due to age due to
infirmness we can't escape
i remember in the past
there was nothing half done
about you as you pounded out
verse in the summer fall winter
spring files everywhere with
correspondances papers exploding
in all directions heater blasting
in the livingroom with that
curious green shag ancient
carpeting and now
you are a faint voice on the
other end of the phone
getting fainter and fainter
as i think about it & i feel
like now i have betrayed you
because i write things like
this and you are such
the poet
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