Birthdays

Do you carry your past like a stone in your pocket?

Not surprisingly birthdays come on like villains knocking at our doors, tap, tap, tap, shifty-eyed fast speaking salesmen

peddling love, wisdom, youth and popularity pushing substitutes in bottles, tiny millimeters of hope

Shifter stones, natal lovers, dark aliens, eaves-dropping our days, troubling our nights,

Feigning possibilities of youth and good health, Intertwining hope with dread, Fantasy with fact

Re-defining gravity as incidental, promising regularity as attainable, shifty fast speaking salesmen console us with companion pillows, heating pads, Flexall and Unisom,

Unpearling our hopes and dreams a little while longer, Old age is no party, No matter, No, No

Sometimes we swallow their lines greedily with regular doses of Metamucil, Centrum Silver and Maalox,

So what if Lady Clairol is our friend?

When we can't sleep, not without all those young hot lovers who mused our days and pleasured our nights,

Come you now with wrinkled skin and beer barrel waists with high, high foreheads

No matter, No, No, meet us at the Vender's Market in the Land of dreamy plenty. We will love you and will sing for you of good times

Bottled and Preserved just for our Birthdays!