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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino, who retains all rights: contact

"What We Leave Behind" (by Joe DiMino)

Old is not always so difficult
To deal with: a few more wrinkles,
Few more dinkles; hmm—“dinkles”?
Not certain that’s a word…but sounds
Right, for those spots and changes
That haven’t yet been named—in a regurgitated,
Runny-way defy the shape of analysis (like politics
And music of late).
But loved ones and good friends always
Remain the same—till they’re gone; then
We sort of imagine them the same…though
A good bit younger, and in a far better place—
Ah, revelation! That’s what I must do
Before I go: tell everyone that can still listen
That if I buy the junked first, gold chariot—whatever,
This is how I want to be imagined….

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