Like everyone, I’m interested to see
if others of my cohort have the clue
that played out leads to centered ecstasy,
so I keep watching her and him and you.

We’re almost elders now but seldom wise.
We seem to be subsiding as we age.
The shoulders slump, the backs are bent, the eyes
are casting down and angling toward the grave.

The old wives say that hair and nails still grow
after you die, but we have better facts.
Death ends the growth, but observations show
the skin on scalp and digit ends retracts.
My posture isn’t better like you think.
I tell you: it’s my peers begun to shrink.