after so many years, still a crusty old beat,
not believing in the phantasms
of money, power, success.
despite all these adventures,
all these voices that urge me:
join a gym! cut your beard!
get a recognised vocational qualification!
coming out in the morning
with a secondhand Dante's "Paradise",
and a notebook for poetry,
entering haiku of pigeons, rain,
sunlight through veined leaves
of trees at the bus stop.
surprised and delighted
to find myself still me,
despite all of the years, despite
my jellyfish spine,
one constant in a maelstrom of change.