STOP PANICKING ABOUT GETTING OLDER, YOU PRICKS
We are good tenants, all.
We wake to pay our rent,
for mornings warm as mouthfuls
of amaretto and/or God, for sex
performed according to
individual concepts of joy.
For the spilled milk of outer
space and how earth dissolves
its porous children, my eyes cross
with love. They say I’m getting to
that age when I’ll have to decide.