We inhabit our delusions
dumbly fueled by the run
squirreling-away fantasies
with the perseverance
of rare book collectors
redeeming them
when the weather report
jolts us out of our haze.
We think we can pump iron
with the best
and in the silence of our bathrooms
tick off aging’s onslaught
applying elixirs
to best all mind’s comers
and convince ourselves
that we can entertain
any invitation
any departure
squinting with all our might
at the long-legged shoppers
as we suck in our stomachs
sip the house blend
and smile through the remainder
of our crooked yellowing teeth.
