Pointless the doing seems to become,
by Lawrence S. Pertillar
For anyone today...
To continue their defending,
Of truth and the presence of it...
From a reluctance to use it.
By many who would rather,
Have it decay.
And those who remember truth,
To prioritize in their lives...
Choose to not admit their true ages,
In fear they may be victimized.
Or ostracized by others pretending,
They can disguise their appearances
With moisturizers, facelifts...
Or doctored birth certificates.
As if to prolong their membership,
In the forever young...
While excusing truth to use at all.
'Don't I remember you?
Of course I do.
There is a picture of you,
In my grandparents high school...
-Just how old do you think I am?
You can't be 'that' old.
I would say...hmmm...
At least 65.
You here at the club,
Checking up on your grandchildren? '