ODE TO THE WRINKLED MAN

i wish i was unwrinkled.
who crinkled me up like an old newspaper?
will i be jammed into a wine glass...
and packed away in the dark?
my eyes used to twinkle.
now they are gray.
how come my bright lights,
have all gone away?
oh well...at least i don't "stinko".
when i scrub up, i'm "pinko".
i'm a clean old man.
yes i am!
i'm also a thinker.
some say i'm a stinker.
i protest!
i'm not a hoodwinker!
i wish i was unwrinkled.
scars and blemishes are sprinkled,
all over my body.
my imperfections,
came without my reflection.
my youthful dayz...
were a purple haze of fun!
as i reflect,
i must interject,
i don't regret.
i just sit on my bum.
sometimes i appear,
like a half-finished beer,
at road houses...
seeking to have me some fun!
the ladies i meet,
jump up on their feet,
and beat a hasty retreat,
for the door.
they want unwrinkled men...
without brains, books, or pens,
who are "wankers",
and display nothing more!
i ponder my fate.
it must be too late,
for wrinkled men to whore!
but it's alright,
i aint gonna fight.
mother nature just closed the door...
on wrinkled men,
who no longer can score!
i wish i was unwrinkled.