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I wondered this morning

 - whilst waiting for the lights to change -

I wondered

who’ll go first ?

her or me


I’m thirteen years ahead already

and I always was in a rush

whereas she dawdles

taking her sweet time

always a few steps behind


but life’s throw of the dice does odd things

strange things

stranger things still


big H, his chin slowly nod, nod, nodding down

on his ancient hoary chest

he sits up with a start as I politely cough

as if he never was asleep

behind his leather-topped desk

this big man with bottle-bottom glasses

and a dad who’s nearly a hundred -

so he hasn’t got dementia after all


and what if the Apache strung me up

over a fire, head down to slowly slowly roast

through lungfuls of burning smoke

would I rather it was me, honestly,

or my dear old mum

who’s only got a few years left, if we’re straight,

I guess it’d have to be me

seeing as I’d have to kill myself anyway


the lights turn amber

and I hope it’s me who goes first

or am I being even more selfish

leaving her behind

with all that stuff to do ?