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Menopausal MythologyTo Ellaraine Lockie's previous piece


Could be my last chance to
 rob the cradle
Sex with hard biceps, flat stomach
 full head of hair
Not a day over 30
Puppy dog eyes
Full of raw longing
I'm a jar of chocolate-chip cookies
He's a boy just home from school
So pull-at-your-heart precious
That I don't know whether to bed him
Or play video games with him
His words fall over each other
Mouth working hard not to call
 me Mrs. Robinson
I work hard not to laugh
The 20-plus years between us
 telling the joke
He shows off his '83 Porsche
John Coltrane CD collection
Body surfing photos
Would I like to go sometime?
I know the spinal-cord injury statistic
Well maybe just out to dinner?
To discuss his novel
About a May-December affair
I'm on a diet
Then how about a light lunch?
I work through noon hours
Don't do caffiene
A Hostess Twinkie?
No junk food either
But I'm his December
He must research his heroine
Study her up close
No midlife lab experiment for me
Even though I'm trial-hit with adrenaline
A good antidote for insufficient estrogen
My boy/toy turns four with a pout
He's outgrown the cradle
But not his mother
My body commits treason
I remember an article
 about a child molester
Refuse to fit the profile
Smother the incestuous urge instead
My nest is empty
But not an adoption agency
And I've outgrown toys
I give my toy to my daughters
They're about his age

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