No Spring Chicken Poem by Juan Olivarez

No Spring Chicken



Oh my lord,
No spring chicken,
How old can she be?
I think she knew Truman,
That's plain to see.
Purple shoes, purple pantsuit,
Even purple hair.
I wonder what color,
Is her underwear.
Oh my lord,
No spring chicken,
Walking down the midway,
With nary a care.
But oh dear lord,
Will you look at that hair!

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