Poem #2,808 | That slowed impetus

Your age-sedated impetus
will scupper your attempts
to change – three decades
remain [on a good day] – a
decline to be allowed for &
other such adjustments – I
feel my way in a new bed –
a lover’s unknown shape &
sleep is our uneasy truce –
stiff in those inutile places
[my other by a blue tablet
& timing] – easier to evade
my grinding complications
& rise instead to morning’s
rude arrival [count her off]