Let's Not Kid Ourelves
i got old. quit working
late, serving red-faced shoremen who
were tired, and drunk, by dusk.
i started waking at dawn and learning
the nutritional benefits of breakfast.
i took a couple of night classes.
for awhile, i thought i knew
what i was talking about.
i started taking women out
in hopes of making love.
i’d kiss their necks and play with
their breasts, and they’d tell me
to grow up.
the older i got,
the lower i’d go:
tracing the crescent of bellies,
chasing blue veins down
pink thighs, and following
the slopes of knees.
eventually, i found myself
being walked all over.
About the author:
Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, Harold Hoffman currently lives and works in Long Beach, CA. He resides with his wife, two small dogs, and two mini lop rabbits in a one-bedroom house. His poetry has previously appeared in The Quercus Review, Verdad Magazine, and the anthology Illuminations: Expressions of the Personal Spiritual Experience.