Barstool Ruminations

The hard edges are starting to form.

They are now just below the surface

more a hint or subtle indication now

but moving with the certainty of death

toward the surface of her skin.

She was probably a beautiful child.

Some would call her beautiful now

mainly after midnight and a few drinks

But even as a child the old woman hid

just below the surface of her skin.

Maybe there is an age we are meant to be

like the old men in the park

who look like desiccated little boys

who still have the eyes of little boys

the excited hand gestures of little boys.

Perhaps even as that little girl

the steel was in her eyes

the old woman peeking out

calculating manipulations on the playground

working the boys just like tonight.

Or perhaps I have imposed these anti-virtues

(admittedly made on precious little objective data)

because I’m just bored here on this barstool

And the main problem with her machinations

is that none have been directed at me.