he can't remember things.
the time
of a meeting,
who
called.
the day of the week.
he writes everything down.
his wife has pinned
notes to his sleeve.
i see the quiet
glaze
in his still blue eyes.
the tumble
of words
trying to find one word
that fits.
so close
in age, we are,
it's a fearful thing,
as a chill runs down
my spine.
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