aging

I can tell I am aging because I think about aging

and I add up all the little aches and ailments I have in order to reflect upon them, or tell others about them for sympathy

even though i don't find that all that satisfying and probably it is detrimental to the building of really great friendships with really great people.

my ankle is double sprained because I am not gracefully aging my arm wears the deep bruise of its days at a desk my rear suffers a broad sepia lump, where it met the floor suddenly and with drama

it is more graceful than it sounds