I was disgraced in the rain;

It dampened every inch of my skin.

I went to my middle-aged Muse,

But she wouldn’t let me in.

I was disgraced on the train;

A middle-aged woman asked me why

My middle-aged lover was crying. How kind.

I hadn’t caused her to cry.

I was disgraced by my brain,

A poem I was hiding within,

Made better while it was hiding;

Hidden never seems like sin.

Old women adore me,

And children love me, too.

Middle-age is nothing but pride,

Elegant, sex-mad, you.


1 Comment

  1. Andrew said,

    February 14, 2016 at 4:00 pm

    Come on. There’s no sex in this one. Duh.

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