It isn’t easy to live anymore.
This cancer’s grown so that it’s hard to walk
unwisely. Mom and Pop’s grocery store
serves as limit of my travels. I talk
to walls because my peers are ill at ease.
I’m quartered now, restricted to a chair,
since made aware that crucial arteries
have been occluded or in disrepair.
I scarcely see life in the district where
I live, and hear still less its throbbing beat,
who once heard children laughing without care
in games they played. My heart’s a lonely street
where I mark time. And daylight’s hazed with dread,
while I keep watch at pastimes that are dead.