I stand back and take a good look in the mirror At my age, didn’t my grandparents look older than this? when I was 5, they seemed timeworn already tilting and slow, wrinkled, gray and fragile, patting my short blond mop I look closer and okay, there are gray and creases with signs of decay on my face and body but I think my 74 is younger thinking and acting than there’s was, with more playfulness, snappier thinking and a greater worldly awareness and yet, I do find my

like a mango at the earthen end of its fall, I rolled out of bed this morning excited to create my sticky rice dish but I made too little rice overcooked it was short on sugar and the coconut milk smelled a little off yet, the guests raved and finished every bite perhaps it was the presentation; rice ball, drizzled with coconut syrup and orange clumps of mango, slick and sweet that simply won them over though I ate quietly it adding a slight lip cringe to the conversa

the name alone intrigues, right? Austin, never said that name before, stopped for a poem on one of those electric bikes, those fat overweened two wheelers with an annoying zip to them (I’ve been startled too many times on my walks by the creek) we talked more about the “B” side of my poetry, used crossword puzzles critiqued and corrected poems bank notices, retired stationary old flyers, announcements (tree slaughter hurts me too) and because a smile never left his