Poetry of Issue #8        Page 34

I don’T Know How All This Aging Happened.

I don’t know how all this aging happened.
Was I so busy
that I didn’t notice?
Was I sleeping for years?
These creases, these bumps -
they are not me.
Who put them there?
Whose body is this?
It’s not mine.
And why can’t I remember
getting this old?
I am young and fancy free.
I do whatever I want
whenever I want.
Elbow, stop aching!
I want to play tennis!
I can’t be this old when
only yesterday I was walking
the streets, hopping bar to
café, carousing till dawn.
Wasn’t it just yesterday?
And why can’t I remember it?
Who’s this old guy
who traded his body for mine?
I want mine back!