I can tell I am aging
because I think about aging

and I add up all the little aches and ailments I have
in order to reflect upon them,
or tell others about them
for sympathy

even though i don’t find that
all that satisfying
and probably it is detrimental
to the building of really great friendships
with really great people.

my ankle is double sprained because
I am not gracefully aging
my arm wears the deep bruise of its days at a desk
my rear suffers a broad sepia lump,
where it met the floor suddenly
and with drama

it is more graceful than it sounds

February 2015