Getting On

He was tired of being old. He chose a body
from the vivarium of the opulent hotel.
He watched the steps. Staff priests removed its soul.
Technologists blanked its memory. He moved in.

He is twenty-eight again! For the fifteenth time.
The fit young brain rejuvenates his mind.
He gifts the brain the wisdom he’s accrued.

The motion sickness made by melding minds
attracts the front-desk staff. A bellhop aids
his sprightly ill-coordinated walk
to pay his bill, and exit through the door
that says Exit, but should say Vivarium.

One thought on “Getting On

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