Jean-Jacques Rousseau died at 75,

leaving his 10th Walk unfinished

At my same age of 75,

I remain a leisurely extra hour

in my morning bed on 12 May,

enjoying Rebecca Solnit's ”Wanderlust:

A History of Walking”,

gearing up with a standard cereal breakfast

and a mug of black coffee

for a 20 km / 12 mile roller ski ride

out of my retreat town of Shitville,

down Swedenland road 52,

on one of the first warm, summery days of 2024

My son – soon to be 40 – came by yesterday,

kindly reminding me of the old fortune-teller

who grabbed my hand in passing

on Connaught Circle in New Delhi in 1972,

when I was but 23, looking into my eyes,

uttering the unsolicited figure ”82” under his breath,

indicating the duration of my life as he saw it

in the lines of my hand,

hoping for a few rupees for that future

that seemed quite distant to the young man

that was I, and that I denied him,

though the 7 years that would allow me now

don't seem unlikely

Dad became 87, Mom 95,

and my brother turns 90 come 25 August