A Few Tears...A Little Laughter

Downy-soft days of my youth
are scattered behind me,
scraps in the blizzard of experience.
The mind overwhelmed for an instant
with the reality of sixty season cycles
Perplexed and anxious eyes
see each new sag and wrinkle
a threat to further existence.
Imagined lines not yet appeared,
ailments not yet suffered.

Strange demons visit on occasion
bringing visions
of two-stepping to Heaven
in Tony Lamas.
"They dragged her kicking and screaming
all the way."
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
no longer merely words
to a not-so-popular song.

Time no longer abundant.
None to waste.
All is fleeting,
escaping faster and faster.
Poochy, paunchy, pasty, pale,
but keen of wit must count for something
I should think.
Polished stone, my foot!
Mature and sophisticated, my ass!
Worldly-wise and charming...
No parts remain to damn.

The intellect advised making light,
the gut cries, "Alas, all is lost."
And in between intellect and gut,
the breasts sag further.
Caught up in advance, then sudden retreat,
adventure versus despair,
the games of age, so like hopscotch,
but deadly now.