No longer can I recite my poetry
live at cafes and bars. No more art
exhibits am I able to assemble and
present. I can barely hobble to the
bathroom of my small apartment
when necessity calls.
Over the phone one day, my nurse
from the VA was impressed that I
knew what incontinence was, when
I used that word to explain, I can
hold it until I make it to the stool.
In a time gone by, I worked for a
spell at a nursing home and incon-
tinence, crippled and absent-minded
were three maladies I hoped would
never afflict me.
But I digress, and should I still be
alive next week, I may find that my
physical and mental acuity may be
compromised appreciably.
Right here and now in this moment,
I’ll post my poems and photos on
line, give a reading and a showing
of art in Virtual Reality, this IT ter-
monology I thought I’d never live
to see.
Now if I was able of performing
my daily constitution that way, I
figure I would truly have it made.
-30-
Chris Hanch 8-7-2020
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