Service to others is the
rent you pay for your
room here on earth.
—Muhammad Ali

She talks of change, of
Back to neighborhoods
Which were comfortable.

Of underground parking,
Of walkable, convenient
Distances to work.

Oh, how nice to wish
For change, to want to
Go forward by backing up.

Or, to make sense from
It, plunge right in and
Join the dance.

I dread the thought of
Driving for fear of putting
My foot on the wrong pedal.

As a perfectly flawed man,
I live alone with a cat and
Shelves hosting 6K books.

Should she change?  Must
I?  Which of us has the
More restless heart?

Life is for living, it is
Said, so perhaps we can
Stick it out for a year.

Stick it out until you can
Prove that love is not a
Swollen mass of flesh.


Or change, change, and
Pretend you are different
From a new car in the driveway.

Or another K of paperbacks,
Or a new litter of kittens
Grazing in the kitchen.

If you change, hide all the
Evidence and be humble
As the crippled or the blind.

Share your legacy before
Someone else interprets
It for you.

And live every day slowly
While looking in the mirror
Saying “Progress, not perfection.”


© Lewis Bosworth, 2016