Posit. Stick
to me, baby,
adhere, adhere.
Here, everything
is flying away,
gray cells slough
off like dandruff;
old friendships drift
apart, nothing
wrong, too much effort
to keep up. But
here you are, old faith-
ful, old pal. You know
how to cling. You
affix yourself
to my calendar,
are there
to remind me
that when things
fall apart,
here you are: stuck
like a gymnast
landing on her feet.