Waking Up Sixty

Photo by Josiah Lewis on Unsplash

Sometimes I wake up and admire my perfect bed-hair,
As if I’ve just come from having a coiffure in a French salon.
Sometimes I wonder when I time-traveled to ancient Greece
To hang with my older sister Medusa, the one with better hair.
Sometimes I wake with the limbs of a twenty-something athlete.
Sometimes I wake up and wonder “how dare someone intrude
During the night and abscond with my left kneecap?”
At sixty, I can only breathe deeply of the warm New Mexico air
If I avoid eating eggs, and apparently, eggs are in every food I love.
Including flan, with the delicious caramel/coffee-flavored syrup.
And, mysteriously, red wine makes me bitchy. When did that happen?
Now, I’m limited to cheap pink wine with wimpy alcohol content,
If I’m to be reasonable with other human beings.
Thank God, I never get mad at the dog.

Photo by Ash Goldsbrough on Unsplash