my body is
66 years old and occupied
eyes blink
skin sweats
& i can still spit
how many shoes & socks
have i marched into holy dust
in my time?
how many shirts & ties
were worn down
below gentility
& sadly abandoned?
lenses & leather may change,
but gold frames & brass buckles
carry on nearly forever
depart i shall without
accouterments
spirit can neither be
created nor destroyed
maybe my wardrobe
will animate some aspect
of a searching person’s soul
maybe my old boots
will lead another person’s feet
up a mountain
& surely my old wire rim frames
will always inspire just enough vision
to pierce the unknown