I Strain To Hear, But My Old

Sometimes I Think If I Had To Choose Between An Ear Of Corn Or Making Love To A Woman, I'd Choose The Corn.

I Stroke Her Lightly, Memorizing Her Body. I Want Her To Melt Into Me, Like Butter On Toast. I Want To Absorb Her And Walk Around For The Rest Of My Days With Her Encased In My Skin. I Lie Motionless, Savoring The Feeling Of Her Body Against Mine. I'm Afraid To Breathe In Case I Break The Spell.

Don't Want To Get Tipsy And Break A Hip.

I Strain To Hear, But My Old Ears, For All Their Obscene Hugeness, Pick Up Nothing But Snippets.

Age Is A Terrible Thief. Just When You're Getting The Hang Of Life, It Knocks Your Legs Out From Under You And Stoops Your Back. It Makes You Ache And Muddies Your Head And Silently Spreads Cancer Throughout Your Spouse.