Saturday, July 9, 2011

Off the Market at Last

There may be a Grandma Moses out there
Ready to burst out at eighty-something.

It won’t be me.

It’s possible to stumble into love.
Some may even be invited to bed.

It won’t be me.

I have hours and volumes of memories
Rattling around my tired old brain pan.

That would be me.

That’s my story and I was able to walk
And write and screw and laugh more than enough.

Enough for me.

I’m tired of competing with young chicks
Who will do anything to please a man.

I don’t have time.

I’m tired of trying to write new plays,
When all they want is retreaded movies.

Write for myself.

I am retired, and maybe it’s time
To stop worrying about making sales.

Of ass and plays.

Oh, I didn’t drop the market, Sweetheart .
The market dropped me, but don't worry, Kid.

I’ll make it fun.

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