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where is the wisdom
of my earlier worlds
giving me the illusion
I knew what I was saying

the years since then
have taught me insights
       unexpected  inconvenient
the wisdom of old age  maybe

yet I don't find again
the certainty of youth
forever lost
in the complexities of living
supposedly
the competition
of the world's best soccer teams

has become
        very deplorably
a plaything of global politics

bad carma
the night in which
the dead come alive for a while

only to be frightened
right back into their graves
by the horrible masked spectacles
of the living
when nothing seems to matter
joy or disaster
    same difference

you may want
to double-check
your priorities
I rarely go out
do not talk to many
cook my own meals
don a mask on planes and buses
and crowded supermarkets

hoping to survive Covid
uninfected
sitting up straight
     suddenly
apropos of nothing

another arrow
from reality
watching a TV broadcast
with Luciano Pavarotti
singing an aria
about a unique woman

     dedicating it to Lady Diana
     who is sitting in the first row

     a lovely and appropriate compliment

she died in the Paris car crash
not long thereafter
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