50 Plus, Laugh With Me, Bad Prose

Times of reckless spending, charging it to chance are over.

The economy's a wreck. Insurance is due, landlord coming, take cover.

A forecast cooling down to 95F, we get moving.

Post signs all over town, I drive you tape, we will do this!

It is 3 a.m. in the morning,

We hope the meanies don't tear them down!

Yard sale ad says 8 a.m to whenever.

- Worrying, fussing, gathering everything around.

This will be good when it is over

If it can be replaced, it is to be Sold

We worked it with Grace, the customers were tipping, $8.00 for tape

Prices were low, 10 cents for a book,

$5.00 a Futon. cheap prices were the hook.

At the end of the day, we showed our groove was on.

Worn and sweaty, we made dinner for all.

That night we dreamed without any dread,

Sunday was coming our needs would be met.

- The morning light peaked over Earth's crust,

we waked up quickly, without any fuss.

Tired, weary, sporting sunburned noses,

Coffee, then, out there to off-load those clothes.

We made ready to haul the stuff out.

Opening the door we let our breath out!

8:00 a.m., we were set up and ready,

the 105° morning made us swoon, it was quite heady.

Hot Air re-blasting, brought a quick change of mind,

We could not be made to cook our brain,

hopefully we would be fine,

the Yard Sale ended at 8:09

(This was written in 2010 the first summer after the Deepwater Horizon disaster. It started a cyclic three year warming trend that hit us in Arkansas hard. High temperatures equaled unbelievable electric bills. It was a rough, and hot summer.)

When you get older, you can do what you want.

Run around town, dance, stomp, cuss and snort.

No one to tell you, You're up way too late,

you're the boss of your life. Isn't it Great?

Reality sets in, get married, have a kid or two.

Schedules to keep, you're setting down rules!

Days, months, and the years scream by.

Quick as a switch, all the kids are grown. You are 55.

Being mature, surviving life,

love, and tears all that shuck and jive

Older and wiser, sex isn't Taboo.

I've got extra condoms, purple and blue.

My box of Trojans were bought during the 2000 debate.

Being Boss doesn't mean it's easy to date.

The rubbers came in handy during last years water fight.

Been on some dates, they lasted one night.

My prophylactics are fancy in this hood.

As wise as I am, I wonder...

Are the Trojans still Good?

The Good Old Days were filled with the historic movement of Aquarius,

Peace, Love and Groovy.

Necks boasted love beads, trinkets, and vials.

Wearing only Giant Bell Bottom pants, tie-dyed dresses and smelling of patchouli.

My skin was unwrinkled, I wore a size 9,

Today my belt is "Orion"

It can go around twice.

Then, boys and girls higher than Air

Long Flowing Locks, Dreds and Afros were there.

Inspiration brought forth The Musical "Hair".

Youngsters have one big worry;

The only thing to mess up a young face,

is one zit, or pimples scattered than one place.

The end of the world comes at the school dance,

not Carrie unleashed, instead It arrived,

The mountain on the end of my nose, a band-aid on the face.

Years have zoomed by, pimples come and go.

Shaving becomes tiring. Tanning and waxing a bore,

Decades speed by, where did the years go?

Fifty years and I still find a zit or two.

No one warned us of this, how would we know?

Can I trade pimples for wrinkles? Can I have clear skin?

**They say what comes around goes around,

I find this is true.

"Hair" is a production with a mind of its own.

Four decades later,

it makes me blue. I still care!

Life is so unfair, instead of a pimple, now...

in less than an hour, on my chin, I can sprout a three inch Hair!