Member-only story
The Drishti of Aging
Coping with a much too fast world
When I was young
everything moved too slowly,
being patient was a pain,
graduating took forever.
I couldn’t wait until it was my turn,
and I didn’t even like wasting time
standing at the urinal.
Can’t this supermarket line go faster?
When will I become an adult
and get a car,
move out of the house,
and have my own life
so I could finally be free of my parents?
Once I reached my golden years,
the world speeded up —
life got too fast,
or I slowed to a crawl.
The days blended into one another
like a Dali painting,
and I kept aging
and my skin hangs like weeping willows
and everything is a blur,
except me.
Behind you, I hear someone say,
as an indignant young person sprints
around me, as if I want to keep
the the earth from spinning,
and impede a generation’s progress.
