braille buttons

it's not

old age we fear,

it's the shelving of us in tall

or low

buildings

with off and on ramps,

clearly

marked signs

and braille elevator buttons.

we fear,

the memory loss,

and spoons

of oatmeal aimed at our

open mouths.

we fear

the steps, the long

walks

to the far end of the building

where

the pickle ball

court is,

where the lap pool

sits blue

and empty, where the two

pound weight

machines rest and await

our arrival.

we fear the wheelchair,

the crutch,

the seeing eye dog,

the young people visiting

with forced

smiles on their

anguished faces.