i want to know you when you are old.
i want to see you with
glasses too big for your face, with
a balding head, with
wrinkles of wisdom telling stories across
your truthful lips.
i want to talk to you when you are old.
i want to hear you when
you divulge exceptional advice, when
horribly bad jokes come back to life, when
experiences are woven into tall tales that
you have known yourself.
but i do not ever want to be old.
i do not want to forget your name, or
where i lived when i was younger, or
the anecdotes of what we've done, or
anything about love.
i do not want to lose my walking body.
i would hate to stay young
and have you age so;
i guess i must give in to the perpetual
for the sake of fairness.