Where did he go?

That young man of height and

charm, with a pleasant mien

and a love of women, who

would often give to him

more than he deserved….

 

When did he perish?

This man who flew unbeckoned

Into a war zone, living in a city of

beauty and Asian grace, under siege

by an evil army, a place where death

was sudden, random, quiet–

if you heard the explosion,

then you knew you were whole.

 

Where did he go, this dauntless

globe trotter—landing in one

country with a few bucks yet

unworried—he knew, just knew

he’d find a job, make new friends.

Once in Tokyo he held a 100 yen coin

in his hand, all the money he had

in the world, and smiled, the way

only youth can smile, for old age

remains an abstract, a foreign land

of little interest to those still on fire

with life….

 

And so the old man ate the young man,

as the old long have devoured youth

since life burst forth in an empty world.

 

In truth though, it was only my old body

subsuming the godlike one that used to

carry my soul In this world of 4 dimensions.

The mirror shows me an old man– it’s a trick!

I know the young man is hiding within—

He, me, I am 24, only 24 years old,

And I do not age, not since, well,

I was twenty-four and swam with death.

 

You can laugh, I don’t care,

for I am young, and will always

be young, in this life, and I

guess, in the next one too.