There are no regrets, so they say.
After all, the frail yet smiling elderly admit to none.
Have you heard confessions to the contrary?
Then, I will be the mouthy woman -the one you hear shouting them out-
my wrinkled fist waving this crumpled but still burning list of longings!
This body- she’ll be bony and frail-
My limbs will be numb- and still hurting from exhausted love making-
And fearful of facing life’s failings,
if never ballsy enough to stake out and escape
these proscribed and limiting lies.
Oh, yes, there are regrets. No one will admit it. But, Goddamn it, they exist.