Saturday, January 21, 2012

Sonnet XXVIII -- Santa Baby

I say “enough!” to pointless dreams of Love
The vaunted possibilities of Sex
The Gods won’t pour happiness from above
At our age a harness could break our necks
Our health and money must take precedence
I leave younger folks to pay for dinner
And do romantic things that make no sense
And pretend that they are a careless sinner
You can’t return to being a young swain
I will no more be a choice piece of ass
You’re going to have to earn it for your brain
Accept that rich men will buy the hot lass
As for me, covered with sags and wrinkles
Accept the men who look like Kris Kringles

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