I used to have a pretty ass.
I swear I am not lying.
I could attract all kinds of guys
Without even really trying.
Then Father Time, that royal bitch
Came to me and said,
“Age is like the wrinkles
You see all over your head.
Your butt, like your hairline,
From a distant former day
Has taken it upon itself
To slowly pull away.
So, now your various virtues
Have begun a bit of a sag.”
I told him then and right there
I did not appreciate the gag.
He said “You’ll notice these days
When you get up off the couch
You groan and moan just like
Old Oscar the Grouch.
Oh great, I thought, I’m turning
Into a children’s show character.
I want to cuss out Mother Nature
And really try to embarrass her.
After all, I didn’t ask
To fall apart this soon.
I’ve yet to win the lottery
Or walk upon the moon.
And, I want to swim the channel
Even though I fear the water.
Lifelong dreams, even when they’re wild
Are all that really matter.
I’ve noticed lately when I type
There are hairs on the keyboard.
I always blame it on the cats
I call them the Mongrel Horde.
I carefully make sure that I
Never bring to my awareness
That none of them have gray hair.
In fact one of them is hairless.
I’m sure I don’t have wrinkles yet
Because I don’t wear my glasses
When I look into the mirror.
You know when the boys make passes?
But, I admit I make my screen
Print out a half again the type size.
I may be getting older day by day
But, nobody can say I’m not wise.