Today I saw you older
and I still love you, thought
that I wouldn't, did. Less
in your face, always a
nascent anorexic. Grew
over a life since then and left
this. Color can no longer
hide your white hair, given it up.
And you're deathly thin and I
like it. Less between us, simple
new shapes of your limbs, joints,
the small of your back swoops flat,
and I am a monumental disaster,
I burned a hole through the carpet
by being slow-witted. I'll grow
Roman ringlets, eat better, eat
less. The Jonses are disappearing,
and you and me are like that,
we are like that one over there.
