My Favorite Composer

By: Contributor
22 March, 2013

OLD AGE
By Joanne Forman

Hair does not remember being brown
Eyes are grateful they can see at all-
In color!
Mouth has forgotten teeth
Tastebuds mourn for salsa
Tinnitus warbles at dawn
Groans, shimmering,
In stereo at night.
As for wrinkles,
They’re more like ravines.
The breasts have gone south
Waistline is strictly theoretical
Knee aches for cartilage
As a sponge for water;
Big toe has made friends
With its bunion;
Only one part is as good
As when it was fourteen.
But I remember
Sitting under the pine tree
In Lakewood, Michigan
In the summer of 1938
Gleeful and utterly content
Because for the moment
No one in the whole world
Knew where I was.

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