Gravity is the final end
Luring us back into
The womb of earth
In some sort of ironic
Twist of bate.
Someone should tell us
While our hearts still float,
That it’s not going to last.

Well, maybe they do tell us,
But by the time we actually hear it,
We’ve gone deaf
In a world of crème’ fresh replacements.

Decay begins the moment
We take our first breath
Sure, it’s masked as adolescence;
Sure, it wears a cloak of maturation,
But in the end, it’s simply the inevitable
Journey toward the body no longer functioning.

Inside myself,
As it is with everyone I’ve ever known,
My being is perpetually 20-something.
Slowly fading away from the club,
Truth edging us toward the back door,
No longer desired for the delicious bodies of youth,
Nor craved for the decadence of pornographic qualities
Or the babies we can create.

No one tells you to be prepared.
Or maybe they do,
But it’s impossible to detect
The exact moment one slips
Into the lesser-desired “mid-life” seasons.

I know I am there,
One foot clinging to the dance floor,
One foot in the alley,
Ready to be knocked into the ethers
By a Bouncer named “Wisdom”,
Death grip on a spirit
That just won’t quit.

10/10/2009

Posted on 10/11/2009
Copyright © 2025 Alison McKenzie