To be this old

To be this old, you see I don't feel it, or at least this is what I tell myself In the mornings when my heel cramps In the noon hour, as I struggle to stay awake In the evening, when my back begins to give To be this old, you see I don't think it, or at least this is what I tell myself

When I can remember friends from 50 years ago When the song I hear at Costco was my teen 'fuck you' song When I find myself alone, with friends having passed on To be this old, you see I don't sense it, or at least this is what I tell myself

Straining to see the print on the paper (I turn my iPhone camera on in the elegant restaurant, sheepishly, just to see the sides available tonight) Struggling to ignore how gravity makes itself known Wondering how best to be useful always to avoid being thrown away in a nursing home to know when to end a beautiful life with dignity before it comes to that "Put me in a wheelchair and toss me over the side of an 80's party ship"

To be this old, you see I don't want it, or at least this is what I tell myself But love has not stopped giving me reasons to feel young Wonder still takes my breath away Joy still catches me at the least expected moments

To be this old, you see Isn't at all what I thought it would be Neither was love Neither was wonder Neither was joy

It was all better, brighter...

To be this old, you see I don't want it, or at least this is what I tell myself But, even with the failing body, The mind and heart look back,

To a bottle of tequila, well-spent, To torn clothes in a fit of passion, poetically thrown To tears of grief and sorrow, given to a woman who I love loving To dancing in a dark place, wrestling the darkness to light

To be this old, you see Maybe I do want it, because the road I took to get here Has a fucking awesome view