Growing Old

Let me simplify our love. Except
Here’s a careless mistake. Stupid math.
There is no escape. Striking off red losses. New candles,

Renewed effort. What happens at hundred? Counting as
Simple as this gets you
Out

Of breath. It cannot be
That hard. I know you
Hate imperfections

Or the rank of age, time
Like a sewer river
To cross to get back home.

It clings to you, you
Wax man, figurine, guard
Of the museum

A defect collecting dust.
Nonetheless I want to grow old with you.
Soak up the stench

Of incapability as we
Sit, imbeciles, in dampness. We
Sure have let ourselves go.

This makes you
Uncomfortable. I smile
Into your face, breath of a

Skull. This
Sour back alley is one
Corner of our minds.

Hold my hand: I
Want to grow old
With you. Do not fear

This is no algebra.
Simplify. Simple.
Marriage is just the dance

Squeaking on the Squash courts. Parry
Mine, then yours, routine, gently
Taking turns. Simple.

Old age is just bringing home the groceries,
Unwilling to make the second trip, and fingers
Sagging like skin under the tug of life necessities.

We are all wax man, but your neglect set fire to the roof
And the heat is too much. Like ice cream, we split open
And our face starts to melt. Lick it clean, lick it

Clean. We are being more honest now. Bare your ugly mind
And I will pull apart my shirt like your favourite superhero.
You cannot accept this equation, even when I present it with my

Outstretched tongue. The sewer rats
Or alligators scare you now. I want to grow old with
You. I will

Pull you, your
Faithful rickshaw driver, if I
Have to.