It Will Be a Sea Change

Old rockers don’t like eating dinner at 4 in the afternoon.
They know at least a hundred cool ways to die.

Old rockers wrinkle in ways that are bad-ass.
They flash devil horns at the retirement home staff.

Old rockers trick out their motorized scooters.
They never go to bingo night without something in a flask.

Old rockers stare out of smoked-glass windows.
They like to watch the young punks pass them by.

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Green (for NaPoWriMo, Day 28)

When I was as green
as any apple tree,
the truth was
apple simple.

Even now,
you never know:
I could still be
verdant somewhere,
if you scratch my skin,

and somewhere,
I think I may have
a few new leaves
yet—

celadon,
peridot,

emerald.

 

 

NaPoWriMo, Day 28 prompt: Write about a color.

 

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