Sometimes it’s my body
that makes me feel
old;
the way the calories
just stick within my skin,
the growing pool of
morning aches,
or how it seems that
I can pull a muscle just by
turning wrong
to look up at the stars.
But sometimes it’s the way
I catch myself
fussing with
the cups
the plates
the bowls
so that nothing touches
inside the dishwasher,
and I have to laugh because
I see that I am
turning into
my father.
