Men my age walk dogs along the river here.

We know the distance and the difference

between now and when we started.

We’ve lost more than a step or two along the paths,

and we’ve taken with us more than one friend,

but the men we someday will become—

who in their houses or linoleum rooms

read, or watch, or flirt with nurses,

and wait to take what comes—

they still call us youth.

February 22 20201