There are three of me these days
—simple me, the unchanged one
—commander me, who tries to give orders
—and body me, who craves retirement
and ignores the other two.
Simple me and commander me
get along okay, if only to have
someone else to talk to.
Body me has memories like passing pain.
Three musketeers sans muskets
Curly, Larry, Moe.
We sleep in the same bed
share the same dreams
the same forgotten secrets.
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