Elephants’ graveyard

No one cares how big you were
when your bones are moldering,
when wind sweeps dusty dreams away.
Everyone was somebody once, I found,
when I moved with my big ideas
to a small town, settling
among retired CEOs and generals,
would-be novelists and artists,
rubbing shoulders with descendants
of all the famous colonists,
just another stranger after twenty years.
I have learned that now is the time
to bellow, trample, bare my tusks
while I still can, to live today,
compose instead of decomposing



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