dressed in the suit he wore to his first communion
prowling downtown, studying hungry businessman
he begged his mother for a big boy haircut
said he needed to shorten the grey curls
blend in the receding hair line
he grew weary of the sandbox and the playground
swore he was ready for the scorching Sahara sand
he took swimming lessons at the local pool
preparing to face the Oceans of the world
though one morning his alarm didn’t go off
a stellar limbo between the seasons of his routine
his first time looking at the picture without the frame
a morning without his glasses
now, that’s colossally beautiful he’d whisper in astonishment
laying back down this one morning; just to watch the time
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