I’ve been worrying
That current attitude
Of sluffing under my bus
A few forever-close friends
Given new rubric, Sooo little
Time left, No way to be intimate
With those where too much baggage
Accumulated in out-dated relationships
—That you feared becoming like some
Dylanesque ugly primitive Jewish Yahweh
My-way-or-the-highway-when-you-see-me
Coming-you-better-run type of angry old man
‘Til a micro-dose psilocybin showed how to love.