As I’ve gotten older, crossing through decades
like Manhattan neighborhoods on a Sunday stroll,
the angst/insight ratio has fallen a good deal –
I see without the same degree of suffering,
the same fuss over suffering, which, after all,
is only as intrinsic to this life as rain,
sunlight, the restlessness of wind, night…

My question now is, “Is this wisdom?” just
this diminution of a ratio that expresses
nothing more than resignation to the effect
that I am first and wish only in second place,
so far back as to be dwindling to a point…
I was once a great connoisseur of wishing,
or so I styled myself internally…in agony

The summer solstice is almost here and then
comes a long lush time as the days begin
to dwindle down to the winter minimum,
that other solstice that’s ruled by darkness
and a wan light from the south… I have made
this trip so many times I have stopped counting
and that decreases angst, too – less history

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