Looking for Romeo

When did men stop admiring
when I passed,
cease once-dreaded wolf whistles
when the wind tossed my skirt?

I hate being being called m'am
by cheeky young clerks
too busy eyeing
the cutie standing behind

My old jeans must have shrunk
They no longer zip.
I must wear them tight
What else will hold up my butt?

My birthday is next month
I plan to black out the date

Can't anybody see
that, inside bags, tummy sags
and slow growing wrinkles,
Juliet still screams,

'wherefore art thou Romeo'?

Pris Campbell

Published in The Dead Mule, Fall 2003

visit Poetic Inspirations the web site of Pris Campbell