Asthma and/or Pilates

Hushed conversations

happen, kitchen-side,

about the merits or

lack there of of of of of of

the messed up eyes

of of the saturated

duckling.

He cannot help it,

or himself...maybe

he's born with it...

maybe his baby dreams

have fractured his sense

of of of of of of of

self worth and

semi-satisfaction.

His demigod status

is on the wane...the

rockstar stature he

harbored in his veins

had held on as long

as it could. Now, he

only sleeps on his side,

otherwise his breath

comes in heaves and

the chills that once

stemmed from his gaze

now grace his vertebrae.

The transition was such

that none but the most

highly trained specialists

could notice the subtle

differences. The color

of of of his cheeks, while

perpetually pallid,

drained languidly, leaving

him pale, pasty, pained.

These were not his

finest years. He would not

tell his grandchildren.