Will They Call Me Mister

I’ve more gray hairs than

I used to, my chin whiskers

now fill in with snowy patches

of stubble. I ache in places

for no reason and am

usually exhausted by

9:00 pm.

I still don’t feel like a

grown-up though.

I’m not even sure what

a grown-up is.

I’ve no children,

I’ve no wife,

no mortgage, or grown-up things.

What makes a grown-up?

Is it knowing things that

younger people don’t?

Because I certainly do that,

but I’ve always done that.

Is it money? Success?

Vitamin pills every morning?

I get curmudgeonly and surly

and irritated by stupidity, is

that being grown-up?

I tell those damn kids to

get off my lawn, in my head,

because I don’t have a lawn,

for lousy kids to play on.

Is it political awareness that makes

a grown-up? Clearly not, what with all

the childishness going on now.

Is it being able simply to do and say

whatever I want within the context of

the law? Doesn’t really feel like that’s

what being a grown-up is.

Grown-ups sleep on their couches,

and tinker and meddle,

Grown-ups worry about money, gas,

car payments, insurance, dental care,

sexual failure, liver disease, being wanted

for who they are and not what they should be,

and having to clean up after themselves.

If that’s all it is to be a grown-up,

then I’m not sure I want to be a part

of it all. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing

and maybe one day, that kid in the mirror,

with wrinkles and gray hair will finally look

familiar, and he’ll wink at me.

And we’ll laugh through our senility.