Poetry | Older by Moments…

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Older by Moments

The degree at which I bend my head,

stare at growing hairs on chin,

ponder the darkening moustache,

the thinning that shedding brings,

the wrinkles that share nothing with laughter,

then wonder if retirement comes with unemployment.

I subtract two decades from my age and realize

I started college then. Two decades that span most

of the lifetimes of some of my closest friends,

then I smile at my selves: child, teen, young adult

and hope that with enough medication we can all be friends.

I breathe in beginning, continuation and end,

wish that I could be into self-subterfuge like

an addiction to kink that comes in 50 shades

of S&M.  But self-deceit is a privilege of innocence,

and indifference. Eyes once opened cannot unsee

their reality

growing older by moments,

trapped by mirrors,

and expectations of accomplishments.

In 37 more years, when moments become shorter,

hair thinner, beard fuller, skin saggier, wrinkles deeper,

just getting to be older will be my major accomplishment.

So, for now I decide to call it a day, tweezers in hand,

mirror behind, I step out and into myself.

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