31.

There are crinkles
living in the corners of my eyes;
they used to rent
but now they’ve bought the place
and are fixing it up real nice
like they mean to stay.

A nagging ache stops by sometimes
in the bone I snapped years ago
running in platform shoes.
Achilles and I stretch together,
but if the weather’s bad
it doesn’t matter.

My shoulders creak now and then,
if I sit still too long
or play too many songs in a row
on my guitar.
They remind me that movement
is important.

I haven’t seen the chin hairs
the deep lines
the actual wrinkles
the widespread aging pains
of this mortal coil.
I still dye my hair religiously.

Those crinkles were born smiling,
and I won’t be stopping that anytime soon.
(Here’s hoping.)
The ache is a good lesson about taking my time,
and those creaks tell stories
I’d rather not forget.

No matter what brand of perfection
anybody’s buying and selling in
fairytales and magazines,
Time charges everybody the same ol’ toll.
People who think they’ve skipped out
are most likely misinformed.