attics R us

going up in the world, live in an attic,
never thought singing cohen's partisan
i'd end up un vieux homme dans un grenier;

you are what your attic says you are,
your shifting tastes, priorities; you shame yourself
silly with the detritus of your dog days,

turn the spot on all those woeful choices, highlight
the cobwebbed corners of your indecisions,
become like lear a foolish, fond old man.

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