guilt trip phone call arrives.
he's sad.
again.
more than yesterday
or last year.
nothing is going his way.
the worshippers
are fading
fast.
age is upon him.
the light
has dimmed a little,
not quite
in full fade.
i have no gems of wisdom,
no secret sauce
to ladle him with,
no joke to tell that will
put a smile on
his lemon face.
it's all his doing. not
mine.
time to grow a pair
and man up
before there isn't
time.
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