Naked, fat, wet,
in default of a kleenex,
uncivilized, childish.
I am an aging
snot-nosed baby.
Such a mess: my life at fifty.
I could step out, but don’t.
My wife, my children warm me
hold me back from going naked
into the colding place.
The scalding water
washes the mess from my fingers.
Baptism? Or is this how they will wash me down
when I’m finally dead?
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