In this time of aching backs, hips and knees I’d have to sit as I debated my younger self. And I would win – if the debate centered on knowledge of human nature and how to survive with this knowledge.
Change the focus of the debate and I’m afraid I’d lose. Certainly I’d be
uncomfortable under my scalp that has all but forgotten
the hairs that once populated it.
I’d still be seated, looking at my younger self,
and her wild afro, unfiltered speech and a
passion that sometimes frightened.
This younger self would beat me like an antique rug
with all the reasons to believe in spontaneous outbreaks
She would tell me I have become a slave
to the tyranny of decorum.
And, in polite knowledge of what is righteous,
I would have to concede.

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