It’s a special day today. I’ll shave.
I’ll look in the mirror and remember
to nip the white hairs on the end of my nose.
I’ll be young again today, as young as
a beach without waves
a fresh bag of chips
a rogue asteroid or
a Tourette’s outburst.
It’s a special day today.
I’ll put on shoes and leave the house
without locking the door behind me,
without knowing where I am going.
I’ll count my strides
like a Roman legionnaire
before losing count
when I turn the corner.