What is Happening to Me?

What is happening to me?

I used to see a woman for what she is

Her intelligent eyes; her purposeful lips; and her curious nature

Now, my eyes seek out a svelte bottom; a fluted ankle; a perky breast

What is happening to me?

I know I don't love them less

I know I don't respect them less

I just seem to appreciate them in parts

What IS happening to me?

It does not seem to matter who

Whether she is smart, talkative or soulful; Or careless with her affections

I am drawn, like a man who loves his designer togs, furniture, and gadgets

For in them too exist many planes of beauty seen from near, far, and askew

Really, what is happening to me?

In the past, I would gladly hold on to a woman I could love for an eternity

If I could love her smile, her voice, her little gestures. I could overlook her less than perfect sum

A woman that I would cuddle on a rainy day, tease and doodle

What is happening to me?

That I am now content to wax lyrical of just her and her certain features

That I don't mind her being silent to me, clueless or blank

Has age turned, changed me?

To things just pretty and candy

What's happening to me?

Is this what Second Childhood is all about

Where once I was also taken by things pretty, perky, and sharp?

Of a time that's uncomplicated; that was happy; and yet, oh, so gratifying still?

A time of infatuation

What is happening to me?

That the scent of a woman could draw me along, float me along - drunk

Is it because I am old but young; old and still longing; seeking?

Or am I like a ill old man grasping at pills

A pill that's shaped like a svelte behind; a pill that's shaped like fluted bones

A pill that's shaped like cupped flesh

So that I may live again

What is happening to me?

That I seek such new and strange ways to love

- by TC Lai