I seem to have. Five years past my allotted
threescore and ten and will probably make it

a while longer. Let me say that love will not
let me alone. If it has let you alone, go back

and find it where you hid it under a scrim
of scar-tissue. It’s what makes it all worth it

even if we fuck it up, and fuck it up again.
Practicing as if to become the best possible

compost for another life, somewhere.
Leaving traces of myself by the road like

bread crumbs and may you find your way
back. Some bread the birds will not touch.