Tiny gray birds flit ceiling to floor
As old peeps shuffle along,
With squeaking joints,
Leaning forward as into the wind
Of the twilight of life, white hair
Soiled pallors, shiny sneakers
Adidas and Nikes, Air and not.
All hugging the walls of shops,
Edge of the Pale,
Shoes squeaking like manic mice,
Space-age slaves in horse-buggy bodies,
Slogging their way,
Day after day,
Fueled by java and joe
Steady, slow, definition of go.
Motion the goal
Of thin-blood, thick will.
Mantra in the air like birds
Use it or lose it, use it or lose it.