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Pandemic with the Parents

Where are the colors now, away from light,
my mind is shrieking.

Track the shrinking forms of those you love,
at a distance.
Toxins morning drags away in piss, and shamble motion,
putting death away for now.

Here are what colors are.
Limited minutes tossed away in tin cans. Light jokes.
The lapses of the young drunk matching, the dementia of the old.
We meet and laugh and laugh at the diseases
til' they shrink away,
with the volume on the radio.

Editing stage: 

Comments

where this one is going. It does occur to me that your description of the receding colors, away from the light and shrinking forms of loved ones, may be symptoms of blindness coming on? I certainly hope not. Good descriptive terms that make one think. ~ Geezer.
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