fleeting

what ripens doesn’t stay
and who is to tell
when I make my next trip
around the block,
up the staircase
burning in age, as the boot
gives traction to the few—
or no one
that stops by anymore
to wish me, yourself
and anyone awake
the best towards the end
of these flickering weeks.

Cat No. 76 of the 500 Cats Project

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