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  • Writer's picturePaul D. Wilke

When I go

I hope when I go

I don't look back

at all that came before

at all the wins and losses

at all the loves and hates

and all the boredom

so much goddamn boredom

peppered with moments of quiet joy

like trudging through snow

in starry December

or holding my baby boy up

to the Arizona sky

and thinking to myself

amazing, amazing, amazing

or panting in lust

in the back seat of my '78 T-bird

with a girl,

my very first girl

etched forever in my memory

feeling so alive

so fucking alive

and feeling the orgasm of it all

and all and all and all

so much of it all


and again

I danced

and sang

and wept

in ecstasy

at the time, the time, the time

so much time yet never enough

give me more and more and more

for it goes so fast and faster

'till I realized

one somber day

that it won't always be so

that nothing lasts forever

and time's a bitch thief.

I hope when I go

I go with a smile

and forget the orgasm of it all

that came before

and stare forward into the flame

of evermore

and the quiet empty

neither blinking in dismay

nor weeping in regret

at those days gone by

for they ain't ever coming back

my friends

with all the laughs

and glories

and shits

and giggles

as the years blur by

and the body crumbles

I'll let it go

and shuffle forward

with a stoic shrug

and a weary smile

just know

I had a helluva run.


Paris, France

August 2020


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