The Time Traveler

My name is Emerson Babylon.
I wear a bowtie and suspenders
I see spots on my scalp
furrows on my forehead
frost in my eyebrows.

They lied.
Knowledge is no compensation
for dysfunction and darkness
for the stitch in my side
the popping when I kneel
Seiko stole my salad
and replaced it with cold cuts.

I will not weep for time lost.
I remember uncreased sheets
the certainty of loneliness
the agents of criticism and control
now I see only you
It is not wisdom that comes with age
but passion.

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