I’m not crazy about this mirror
What’s wrong with it?
It… adds stuff to my face
‘Stuff’? What kind of ‘stuff’?
Oh, lines, and vortices, and parabolas —
That kind of stuff
You might be exaggerating
You might not see what I see –
Let’s face it,
You’re not the most observant person in the world
True
If you were just meeting me
And didn’t know my age
How old would you say I am
Just from looking at me?
Old enough to know
I’d never be dumb enough
To try to answer that question
Seriously
I know you’re being serious,
So am I —
Look, I’m biased.
To me, you look, well, hot —
If I was just meeting you
For the first time,
And we were both single,
I’d just want to make sure
You were old enough for
What I’d want to do with you
… assuming you’d be willing
You wouldn’t be thinking
“First date – a romantic movie and some Geritol”
“Second date – dinner and a walker”
No
Well, if I look that good
In real life,
It’s got to be the mirror
Aging does not make you less beautiful
Or you less of a flatterer
At least I’m sincere
I just think you want something from me
Maybe so.
Bring the walker
Look, I have a brush here,
And I know how to throw it —
“Maybe so.
Bring the walker”
π
“We’ve been together since way back when…”
π§πΌπΈ
Where all good times go, I guess. Filling up the vial that makes a life.
I’m in one of those moods.
Lovely words. Lovely image. I love the positioning of the fingers, holding the head in place, searching the curves, feeling the minor blemishes, smoothing away the concerns. Perfect poetry all round!