It was some time ago that Jerry
    (being a shallow and mangy little boy)
Came to share a cigarette atop the city lights at night
In a high-rise tower amidst the busy and the business
There he traversed, agile and inquisitive
    but always willing to stop
    for a couple of bits of wisdom
    and perhaps, a snack before bedtime
But like days in the university
Which bled into each other as an endless season
Winter came…

Today I passed him in the corridor
    (being a turnpike of sorts, leading everywhere and nowhere at once)
And he turned to look, hardly with acknowledgment
Nowadays, it’s all and all he can manage
    staring all day — making not a sound
    waiting for something or other to happen
    or perhaps, a snack before bedtime
No children to care for, and none but I knew
    (he could not have had any — he was impotent)
And then, like a tidal wave
With few and ineffectual warning signs
Plague came…

As if that wasn’t bad enough — the sickness, dementia
    (being quite alarming as he was not very expressive in his lifetime)
Incontinence marked the latter of his days
Squeezing out any trace of dignity
    which, as it was, could change color depending on the light
    ending up smeared on newspapers, walls, floors
    perhaps, a snack before bedtime
Sour and rank, furry and wild, goblin visage, short of breath
To rest finally among the scattered stars
    no companion nor children to watch from the heavens
But as long as this world turns and unfolds
As long as shared cigarettes burn in the night
Death arrives