it appeared
one of two
conditions
had been met
upon
his possibly once
striking
visage

either

a swarm
of bird sized mosquitoes
drained him
into the perfect
recreation of
a human
raisin

or

this man was
potentially
seven thousand
years old

he smelled of
talcum powder
old spice
and
aggravated rot
in a
hunched over
bouquet of
impending
expiration

shuffling
his feet
instead of lifting
them

and behold
the approach of
death
a pocket full
of hard candy
an uncertainty of
the decade
pushing his
pale walker
across
the nursing home
cafeteria
floor.