WHEN I GROW OLD
every few months
two of them
sneaks up on me
from out of nowhere
suddenly they are there
one on each ear:
long, black single hairs
pointing straight out
from my head
I scowl and growl
and without any sort of grace
rip each one out and say,
“ha! Gotcha, you bastard!”
then I like look into the mirror
at my young face
my smooth skin
and I think to myself,
“when I’m an old man,
none of this shit will mean
anything to me.”
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