gr owing old

At 11:29 she’s telling me
(Oh, I don’t feel
old (even though I’m almost XX))

By 12:15 her constitution’s
been amended by alcohol

[1 whole drink!]

and she wants to go home
as badly as she wants to
go to the next bar

(Oh, there’s a tequila bar behind us!
They’ve got over SIXTY
different kinds!)
(Well, then let’s go)
(No, we shouldn’t,
I’m just saying)

And so 8 minutes later
We’re in the car passing
A restaurant
(That’s where all the kids went)

[The kids, those 20-somethings!]

(Do you want to go?)
(It’s too late, I’ve made up my mind)
(But do you want to?)
(I’ve made up my mind, it’s too late)
(Well, what a shame
You aren’t the 1 driving)

I jerk the wheel hard and we slide across
3 lanes of traffic and she is screaming
and laughing like she is 17
and we are there until they close at
1:55 like we are SEVENTEEN

(I thought you wanted to go home)
(Yes, but I’m glad I didn’t)
(I thought you didn’t feel old)
(Well, I am old, but I choose not to feel
(Uh huh, sure)
(What about you?)
(Oh, I’m not old)
[I say, running my hand through my hair,
bald spot fragile as a fontanelle]


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