TOO EXPENSIVE TO DIE

every freakin' day people point at me to remind me i'm really
old, so old my age is now a game of wild guesses
two hundred, five hundred
there's always a kid who barks one million
but the kicker is this one tour guide who reveals i'm one-fifty
with such confidence it rattles the oldest leaf
off my two-hundred-year-old branch
and when it lands on his head, he just thinks
the universe is telling him he's right

i'm so old but they refuse to let me die
they strap me into steel braces like a patient
who never asked for surgery
as if some tragedy would befall this land
if i go. and the root of all this fuss?
they stuck my face on five dollars once
and now i'm too expensive to die

all because some artist saw lottery numbers in my bark,
placed a five-dollar bet and won first prize.
he got a car. i'm still here

i had friends once, before they dotted us across the island.
i hope they were lucky enough to just fall
two hundred years watching swan lake and nothing's changed
same fights, same tears, same joggers outrunning nothing
kids used to climb me, couples leaned into my trunk like i was theirs
now i'm on crutches and nobody touches what might break.

the age game though. i'd be lying if i said i don't listen.