A New Age


My love and I

Had a silly tiff

And I shut myself, crabby, in my office.

Muttering and swigging straight

From the 2-liter of flat Vernors.

We have a nice collection of bottles

Jameson, Bacardi, even Cachaca

But somehow,

This was my beverage of choice.

Crabby huffs just ain’t what they used to be.



“Lady, you better have your eyes examined,”

I tell myself.

My last exam was so long ago,

I don’t even remember

The right answers anymore

Not bad, you see.

I see

Rather well.


When you’re of a certain age,

Sometimes the edges are fuzzy.

The lenses are sleepy.

You flirt with cheap, colorful

“Cheaters” —

If only for fashion

(Or so your young mind tells itself).

The day may soon come when you seem

No longer proud, but foolish

For being a longtime holdout.

So, I call.

An appointed time.

We shall see, we shall see.



“Of a certain age.”

What does that even mean, anymore?”

Not young, not old.

Not shy about your years,

But not singing them out either.

You see a few more grays

A little skin that could use some TLC.

Or, feel more like watching a show

Than watching the crowds

On a weekend night.

And it is mighty damned sweet.