I shouldn’t care.
Why has my history of utter indifference
To the state of repair of my shoes
Been usurped by a concern for a dent in my car?
It’s 12 years old, has lots of scratches and works.
Christ, it’s hard to notice the little cave-in!
I’m far too old to give up the pretense
Of not caring about pretension.
Tomorrow someone will look at the damn cavity
And give me a price to repair.
Above $400 I’ll live with the inclination,
Below that number comes hypocrisy.
Why get the price?
There should be nothing to gain
From repairing the damage,
Unless ....
Beyond a certain age, where maturity and senility meet,
There ought to be a get-out-of jail-free card.
One raising the other not so much
Where not caring shows signs of wisdom.
If that place and that card exist
I could not stumble over such trivia,
But if I fall it must mark a low point
Where waste in all forms suffocates bravado.
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