Elvis is alive and well in New Mexico ~~ anna hood
She’s turned 70 discovered
- after all these years - she’s a night owl
gets up at noon.
Her midnight world is a lost and found
of oldies station, magazine dreams
and the shopping channel.
She asks for her discount
keeps vodka in the freezer
Jim Beam on the buffet.
When he died she was born
again, learned to drive
the old Buick, goes to The Bingo
nearly every night, wins sometimes
reads the Enquirer believes Elvis is living
somewhere in New Mexico.
She paints her eyes
her toenails, colours her hair
red. Fresh flowers in the bathroom.
Don’t cook now, likes Stouffers
mac and cheese, empties washed and stacked
on the top shelf, bags of candies
along with quarters and nickels
in a drawer beside the sink
for the kids. Phone never stops.
Girlfriends in flowered dresses
bring pizza and beer.
Got a kitten, calls him Timothy
he scratches the sofa. She don’t care.
He likes her Joan Rivers
earrings, her painted toes
He never steals the crossword puzzles
don’t mind when she whistles.
Nobody told her
old age could be good.
She’s turned 70 discovered
- after all these years - she’s a night owl
gets up at noon.
Her midnight world is a lost and found
of oldies station, magazine dreams
and the shopping channel.
She asks for her discount
keeps vodka in the freezer
Jim Beam on the buffet.
When he died she was born
again, learned to drive
the old Buick, goes to The Bingo
nearly every night, wins sometimes
reads the Enquirer believes Elvis is living
somewhere in New Mexico.
She paints her eyes
her toenails, colours her hair
red. Fresh flowers in the bathroom.
Don’t cook now, likes Stouffers
mac and cheese, empties washed and stacked
on the top shelf, bags of candies
along with quarters and nickels
in a drawer beside the sink
for the kids. Phone never stops.
Girlfriends in flowered dresses
bring pizza and beer.
Got a kitten, calls him Timothy
he scratches the sofa. She don’t care.
He likes her Joan Rivers
earrings, her painted toes
He never steals the crossword puzzles
don’t mind when she whistles.
Nobody told her
old age could be good.
Labels: the king
9 Comments:
HA! That's gonna be me!
Roberta, if only --
perhaps you can be one of the gal friends in the flowery dresses
thanks for taking the time!
HUGS!
saw her greeting at Loews
Now that is sweet.
thanks for reading Bernita and AlBear! I always appreciate it
And the dream goes on. How else could one survive?
Clever idea for a poem, Anna. hugs.
Loved the colour and the rhythm of that one, Anna. Here's to growing old just slightly disgracefully and having plenty of fun in doing so!
hey suse and atyllah, thanks so much for stopping by - lets hope when we get to be 70 we are still as good as this old gal. I'm gonna be!
And yes Anna, and that we're still friends!!
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