Dearie me
I'm old
No longer supposed to wear
Fads
Long hair
Tons of jewelry.
Be sensible
That's what I should do
Sell the bike
Sell the soul
Squeeze out a few kids and
Get with the program
Job, car, family, house, debt
Pet messes and
Daycare drama
No more dating
No more flings
Walking on that wild side
Where you can
Feel the skin of the night
Catch in your teeth
As you ride with the
Top down after dark
And your black leather
Softened by miles of road
Hugs your body
The way some men
Want to
But you only have
To let them in
If a wild hair
Possesses you
And of course
No nice respectable
Soon-to-be middle-aged matron
Would ever do that.
Vroom.