Irish Face

There are tiny little creases
Crumpled skin
Around my mouth
This is my fault
For smoking for 25 years
I’ve tried so very many remedies
Mother Nature says no
No, Irish Girl
Sorry, I know you wore sunblock
You’re Irish

I look at my face
I see the lines around my lips
Moved, crease, distort
When I speak
When I smile
When I anything

There’s nothing to be done
It is
What it is

I wonder
Will they creases and wrinkles grow deeper
Will I eventually have a tiny mouth
Surrounded by a crusty, garbled bag of skin
Will my mouth shrink
It seems to be falling in
Perhaps I’ll shut up
Doubt it
I can still write

You are not who you were last year
You are not who you were 5 years ago
You are not who you were 10, 20, 30 years ago
And who
Not I
Wants to do all that shit again
I’ll keep my newspaper face


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