Pocket Memoir, Redux

Today I am talking to myself in the street, 

With my poor posture and fading hair, 

My cantankerous soul like a boy’s and my old dog by my side,

Because the face of dawn has laughed openly 

At my half formed ideas. Yes. To make it in this world

You have to think on your feet. 

 

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Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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