What's So Young About Thirty?

Anya Krugovoy Silver

"Why do people keep calling us young?
And when did that invisible change occur from hip
Young things (not that we ever were), from body suits,
From long hair and earrings? At what moment,
If we could isolate just one moment in time,
Did the balance of our concerns shift to furniture?
At parties, we used to dance on the couches.
Now we sit sedately around the living room,
Piling guacamole on our low-fat chips.
In the classroom, we used to disagree, argue,
Scream curses at each other in the name of rigor.
Now we benignly change the topic.
It's true, we're not old yet, that's certain.
We can still shake our bottoms if we want to,
Wiggle across the dance floor to an eighties tune.
I can still zipper, almost, the dress I wore when we met.
Lust still thrives, like some huge-headed weed, in our loins.
We can even go out and hear a new band play,
If nobody's smoking and it's not too loud.
But no, people are having babies and we're no longer young.
I guess we could do something right now, if we chose,
Hop into the car and drive to the city, keep driving,
Drive on to a new city, do all the things we never did,
Pull on some spandex and boogie with the best of them,
Drink cocktails the size of a cowboy hat.
But it's late. I think I'll just go to bed." home