Love Song for the Terminally Maladjusted
by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue


Tonight let us make love in the clear moonlight
like young lovers again.
Let’s not fret about our sore joints, our saggy bottoms,
the creaking of old bones, even chest pains,
and potential heart attacks.

Tonight let’s make love in the full moon’s light
like young lovers again.
Gripping firmly each other’s
more-than-ample love handles,
let’s make love through the night,
or at least, until one of us falls asleep.
Trust me, it won't be long.

Tonight let’s make love under the starry night
like young lovers again.
Let’s not be embarrassed
by slapping cellulite,
our not-so-taut bodies rippling.

Let’s ignore our smells, our twin homeliness.
After all, by this time,
we could very well be 6-feet under
or ashes in some forgotten urn.
So let’s enjoy, while we still can.
Tonight let’s make love like young lovers again.






Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.