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My Father’s Cane

When my eyes open, I get up. When I feel hungry,
I eat what my stomach feels like eating.

My life is no longer mine.
I do what I am told.

When my body tells me it wants to go outside and sit,
I go outside and sit.

When my soul wants to say something,
I listen, and take notes.

My life never was mine.

It’s time to pack, so I pack.
I move.

Things get done.
My furniture arrives.
My car appears.
A bank account opens.
Food stands in the refrigerator.

They tell me my health is insured.
It’s not.

I’ve become unsteady, unsure of myself.
For support, I lean on my father’s cane.

I was not old. Then, one night,
Over the dark ocean,
Lightning struck, and in an instant,
I was old.

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