Old Wolf

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At an age when peeing in sandals is an adventure,
When I know the location of every public restroom
From Hastings Street to the Yale Hotel,
When pubic hair (so recently brand new) has turned to grey,
When there is more pink on the scalp than hair,
And more hair than ear on the sides,
I have, to my great amazement, fallen in love.

This should be a time to reflect on youthful follies
On sins and omissions committed through innocence.
Instead here am I, like some adolescent schoolboy,
Checking the mail each day for mail bearing her name,
Haunting the corridors hoping for a glimpse of her,
And quivering like an eager puppy when she smiles.
And the bemusement with which I watch myself,
Shuffling about singing her name in my heart.

I am on the verge of overdraft on my hormonal bank account.
I cannot afford to be in love again after all these years.
That is why love happens to the young - they have the stamina!
I don't want this flame of lust in my breast anymore,
I don't want to hang on to every breathless moment,
There have been too many already, and each moment
Weighs heavily upon me, the goodbyes, the tears, the end.

I had hoped for rest at the end, a quiet harbour of reflection,
Before I become reincorporated with the Cosmos.
Instead, when I can least defend myself, my heart,
So carefully walled in, has been breached by this person,
This one, who despite my best precautions, has managed
What so many others had attempted and failed
To expose me again to the capricious winds of love.

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