The last time I knew, we lived
In an expanding universe, the woman
Who wore her hair in a white tower
Piled on her head said to the old man
Who was nodding off even as he shuffled
Alongside slowly in the organic aisle,
His frizzy temples bobbing
In the gently mechanical breeze.
Or maybe he was just nodding wisely,
Who can tell with old men nodding?
He seemed distant, either way, increasingly
Distant from everyone, to me.
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