When we become old women we will care far less
about what people think
than we do now.
We will race down shopping store hallways
at 2.5 mph,
you in your wheelchair and I with my walker,
whacking shoppers' knees with our canes
telling them to get out of the way
so that we can get to the early bird sales
four hours before everyone else.
We will talk as loud as we want
during matinee movies
and have blue hair
and wonder why our children
don’t bring their kids around more often.
We will cement our butts into rocking chairs
on the front porch,
drinking sweet tea and telling those damn kids
to get off our lawn.
We will say what we think and eat what we please
and finally throw our scales in the trashbin.
We will gripe about the price of bread
and demand to be made samples at grocery stores,
even though we know full well
that our fridges are stocked at home.
We will use Alzheimer’s as an excuse
to get out of parking tickets
and go 30 in a 75
because we can.
We will turn off our hearing aids
when Spacey Stacey comes to town
and steal silverware from fine restaurants
in our oversized purses
and store our spare dentures
in other peoples’ glasses
for giggles.
For after all,
there is nothing more fun
than to be an old woman.

03/21/2010