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The Sexagenarians
by David Hill
So this is what happened
to Baby Jane...
A preening crane
at the cafeteria
wears red Capris
and robins egg shoes,
but I cant get past
that straw hat
with the plastic
nest and gold finch
glued to the brim,
so pitifully, gaudily,
gorgeous.
Silver streaks
through long black hair,
garish lips
and eyes far, far away
but I like them kind of crazy.
Since so many have died
she withers alone, like a cat lady
in the fog of a corner booth.
Imagine this:
Back in blue sky days
a top down roadster roars
through sandy Jersey pines
on escape to the cape!
Driving the barren roadway
she slowly unzips me.
She's such a good sport!
Ill return the favor later
in a seaside bungalow
courtesy the quick release
Velcro snatch.
We'll wash it all down
with Liebfraumilch.
Stooped in the snaking checkout
our vacant eyes cast about,
but it's never too late.
The car's just outside.
My tank? Very nearly full...
10/19/2005 Author's Note: Dirty geezer boy strikes again.
Posted on 10/20/2005
Copyright © 2026 David Hill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 10/20/05 at 03:15 AM This is great. The cut the past is very effective and totally visual for me. Nice writing. |
| Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 02/25/07 at 12:27 PM LOL! this is wonderful...and may we all be so motivated when we grow beyond our prime. |
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