(for Marissa Amador)
I simply don’t believe you’re forty-two.
You don’t look like you’ve yet reached twenty-one.
Marissa, there is nothing you can do
to make me change my mind. Under the sun,
most of us suffer damage ton by ton
as it comes crashing down from hostile skies.
The lucky few may have their share of fun–
but, oh, they pay for it, both gals and guys!
If you pay, then we fail to recognize
the signs of payment on your youthful face.
No normal mournful rule to you applies.
You seem immune to time, inured to space.
Against the way of things most souls are raging.
But you just shrug and smile. You don’t do aging.
30 September 2016