something in the manner you say "i'm old..."
intends to stress "...for you."
to say the least,
quarter-life revolutions
have waged aging wars
on my body.
the fruit swells--it is
perfect for the picking.
my experiences declare
i can make a home,
i can make money,
i can make any man happy.
then again, your smile of disdain
has a way of saying
your body has greatly survived
countless battles against the elements of time,
it takes a while before the bitter fruit
becomes ripe and,
compared to you--a man
wise to the ways of the world--
i'm but a schoolgirl
whose giggling innocence
no put-on grace can belie.
No comments:
Post a Comment