Birthday Trauma Poem by William Cavanagh

My friend looks older every time I see her
She habitually tells me
You look good for your age
You haven’t aged a bit
She likes to tell fibs

I know her little white lies are well meaning
Everyday expressions standard clichés
Forever conscious
About the passage of time
Birthday trauma

You’re not a teenager any longer
Look into the mirror
I’m at least middle aged
I’m not completely bald.
I’m only missing one tooth.

Very little grey hair
No cosmetic surgery
No ‘hippo suction’
Contemplating motivation
What should I do with my time?

Enter structure avoid decay
Exercise regularly travel extensively
Good idea, plan and prepare, better yet
Spend money chasing women
Is there any better activity?