If i am fortunate

i will live long enough

to be one of those faithful old folk

who creep into church on stiff arthritic limbs

praise God in hoarse coarse voice

fumble with feeble fingers for the tithes

that keep my guilt in remission

 

Then limp out and off somewhere to die

 

The only true reality of my existence having been

the audacity youth gave me to think that I

was relevant