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Each strand of white hair,
Every wrinkle newly born,
Eyes that mist on sunny days,
Creaking sounds on concrete stairs --
Each passing moment closer brings
Old age with all its spineless stings.
It stings when you know
That waxing is needless.
Passion pants and wheezes
At the sight of sagging breasts.
Everything stoops low.
The touch that electrifies then
Are words from thoughts
That come rolling
Through the excavated architecture
Lying in your lap.
Where the show always begins.
She's Gone To Bed With Someone Else
My wife says that sleeping
With another man is not her idea
Of fun. Taste-buds would cling
Without having common topics
To slurp. Expectations would be
Misunderstood as well as mistimed.
Passion is not just aching tits,
Bruised tips, over-flowing semen, and
Some advantage tucked somewhere. But
Even I discover in me a new man everyday.
Justification For A Nude Photograph
What we see of the stars
happened light-years ago.
Existence never ceases to be:
like amoeba in the Ganges --
embarked on a journey
that never ends. Mitosis
is as funny
as distortions that refractions
cause. Our images too
shall live, and who knows where
shall meet. Distortions can be
rectified, but illusions
must flow unclothed for those
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