I misled him by seeming to be
interested. From the doctor’s chair
all the buildings that I once saw
are gone. Bulldozers are preparing the ground
for new growth as acid rubs
into my nose with a Q-tip. He complains
about the noise. They’re redeveloping
again. The old age home is also destined
for demo, the building’s front plastered with signs
offering what’s left at tag-sale prices.
I spend more time talking with supermarket baggers
and wondering why the mail-lady wears a light on her head.
Change frightens me as I age and I begin
to think backwards.
_________
Vincent Bell’s recent publications include poems in the Live At The Freight House anthology, Offcourse, the Westchester Review, and Work Literary Magazine. He lives with his wife in Ardsley, NY and they have two grown children.