The ghosts of my life are getting
more numerous.
Where are these presences
these left-over nesses
in my ever-receding and dwindling and aging memories?
Where are they
in some deeper way
than in thoughts of those with whom
they were?
What does it mean that they
were here?
What are the essences
that remain?
What do they share of my essence?
What are they of me?
What of me will remain
as my excess
My hereness
and then
my goneness?
Fifty and Counting 