The arrogance of youth, a badge he wore, <br />is faded at the age of 41; <br />his sculpted muscles, forged with weights, are sore, <br />although he claims, “I’ve only just begun.' <br /> <br />“Still miles to go, ” he pipes, enthusiastic <br />about a future stripped of old mistakes; <br />he used to make them daily—some were drastic— <br />and some still haunt him (like the morning aches): <br /> <br />but, all in all, he’s better than he was, <br />still fit, still single, rife with unctuous spirit, <br />a man who’d rather look ahead because <br />the past still stings him when he wanders near it. <br /> <br />He soldiers on, expelling thoughts of her <br />with quotes from Frost, and Karen Carpenter.<br /><br />David Nelson Bradsher<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strange-bedfellows/
