Older, Smolder!
 
January nineteen, two frikkin thousand
and nine,  I am told I will be seventy.
'k, add six.  That is years.  That is
Miz Methuselah, scootch your butt
over.   They make catalogs
for us.  They made AARP.
Catalogs look nothing like Victoria's
Secret.  Esquire they're definitively
not.  High style is a muu-muu
with Grandma's Precious Tykes
or a thermal tee says Grandpa Likes
to get the Blues.  [Viagra, duh.]
Got our choice of dewrinklers
and despotters.  Do note the nice
selection of vibrators if you like
to relax.  Also got this jumbo tray
of eyeshadow bright enough to light
LAX.   Makes me think of Ex-Lax.
Got all that. . .almost said crap!  
Good thing I' am too much of a fool
to switch plans from writing the big'n
to huddling in a Slanket, speed-ordering
diamonds, quote-unquote.   This is one
broad who is creating her own
catalog.   Brad on the cover, natch.
Dimpled grin and spandex,  rrrrrrrrruff!!   
Angie who?  Oh, Angie's in Angola
If you get my drift.  By the way,  
have any of you got the address for  
that new magazine,  Aging Gracefully
is a Load of Manure?  How about,  
Tell Them Where They can Put
Their "Geezer" and "Little Ole Lady"?
Gotta go.  No, I mean, like, I DO.
 
 
                             (c) peejay gee
                                 /Phyllis Jean Green
                                  January, 2009