Blue Cross Junction
an ache in my arm,
harder to get out of the car, or in
arthritis in my wrist,
haven’t played a sport in years,
aware of ice
I walk slowly toward the entrance
of the drug store
a man, my senior by a decade
wears floods with white socks,
he has thin white hair
I thought
shit that’s me in ten years
we each walked
to the prescription counter
by separate aisles
I got there first.
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