ALL THESE PEOPLE CAN'T BE ME SURELY?

ha ha and
here I am
a plump baby

as ever there was
the sort
only a mother could love

grown now
into a sturdy toddler
to be sure

and now
a big boy
already

the spit of
my older self
in my young face

and in a snip
in another snap
my teenage self arrives

photo after photo
I grew out of the album
and there my name

written in violet ink
if evidence was needed
of me being me

summers and winters
come and go
as do the years

this surely 1945
this maybe
perhaps 1972

time passes
all in black and white until
there is my Kodachrome self

now I live
my life
in glorious colour

so many
Polaroid
mes to be

the photos change
and age
as time grows older

yet I remain
a man of many years
too many years

still the young boy
I was
trapped now in this old body

soon the album
will be thrown in a skip
along with all the years

the nice lady
who claims to be
my wife

sighs at my indifference
brushes a tear away
when she thinks I'm not looking

but I have run out
of people
to be

tired of
all this
living lark

Death will be
welcomed when
it comes